


Brother

by offmilk



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Hyungline, Light Angst, M/M, bestfriends!markjinson, jaebum is in college, romance screws over all their friendships/relationships/family feels, vague references to edge of 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9981722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offmilk/pseuds/offmilk
Summary: Everything changes when Mark falls in love with Jinyoung's older brother Jaebum, and Jinyoung falls in love with Jackson.





	1. direction.

When Jinyoung was nine, Mark and Jackson were ten and they'd play hide and seek with water guns outside Jinyoung's house because his mother didn't want them breaking anything or ruining her furniture.  In summer it would be boiling hot and Jinyoung would get caught on purpose, just to feel the cool water against his face. Mark would get out next, naturally, because Jackson was stubborn and competitive and didn't know that sometimes to win you had to lose. And when they got too tired or too sweaty they'd lie on the grass under a big oak tree, silent and panting.

 

In those days, Jaebum was fifteen and the cool older brother who would seek because none of Jinyoung's friends wanted to do anything else but hide. Sometimes, Jaebum would find it funny to get Jackson out first - because the latter saw everything as a competition - and Mark and Jinyoung would spend ages waiting in Jinyoung's treehouse, listening to Jackson screech "cheater" as Jaebum shot water directly at his face. And then they'd cover their mouths and snicker because Jaebum only did that to get a reaction out of Jackson and they all knew that - everyone - perhaps even Jackson.

 

Still they played that way.

 

 

 

 

 

When Jinyoung was sixteen, Jaebum was twenty-two and attending university, majoring in business or finance or something commerce-related to make their parents proud. He was still living at home, eating Jinyoung's food, helping Jinyoung with literature (never maths, Jaebum hated maths) and occasionally greeting Jinyoung's friends Jackson and Mark.

 

When Jinyoung was sixteen, he was bored one night and called Jackson and Mark, but only Jackson had picked up because Mark was out skateboarding (or so he said the next day). So Jackson had brought his ass over to Jinyoung's house, bought pizza and snuck in some gross-tasting beer and they'd locked themselves in Jinyoung's room and gotten drunk. They'd been really happy in the beginning, giggling over everything, pushing each other over - laughing about one thing or another, something dumb, something stupid, Jackson looked funny, no, Jinyoung was the funny looking one - Jackson was charming. Then the haze became murky and they began talking.

 

"What do you want to do?" Jinyoung asked. "After this mess - what do you want to do?"

 

Jackson had shrugged. Taken another gulp. Burped.

 

"I don't know man," he'd replied. His words were slurred, eyes hooded as he scrunched his can. "But it better be something amazing. It's all or nothing, y'know what I mean? You either become brilliant, or you don't. I won't settle for less."

 

Jinyoung frowned. He shook his can, liquid splashing against the metal. "So what's _brilliant_ going to do?"

 

"I dunno. Something cool, I guess." Jackson’s eyes became glassy, like they were overcome with something painfully honest. "Something that helps people. I want to help people."

 

Jinyoung had nodded. He gulped down lukewarm beer. "That sounds cool."

 

Jackson fell back, his head falling against Jinyoung's cream-coloured carpet as he closed his eyes. "Yeah," he agreed. "What about you? What's next for you?"

 

"Something cool," Jinyoung had echoed.

 

Jackson, in any other state of mind, would've shot up and pinched Jinyoung as hard as he could, perhaps even aimed a fist at his stomach just for extra measure. But drunk Jackson didn't register Jinyoung's jest, and drunk Jinyoung didn't register how his words could be interpreted.

 

"There's something out there," Jackson muttered. He turned to his side, his words muffled by the carpet and the chip packet right in front of his face. "There's something out there for us. Something that will bring us purpose. We just have to find it, you know?"

 

"Let's find it," Jinyoung replied. Jackson turned to his other side, moving away from the chip-packet towards his leather backpack. He hummed, as if he were thinking.

 

"Do you think Jaebum-hyung's found it?" Jackson asked. He reached over towards the pizza box - three slices still left - giving up when the box didn't come closer. "Purpose, I mean."

 

Jinyoung chortled, his laughter more aligned with a dog's bark than anything else.

 

"No way," he shook his head. "He's just doing what Mum and Dad want him to do. Jaebum-hyung doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He's just hoping that one day, it'll all make sense."

 

Jackson traced circles on the carpet, watching idly as the carpet parted ways.

 

"I wonder what that's like. Creating your future with no idea what you want to create."

 

He paused, as if he were considering the thought. Jackson sat up, holding Jinyoung's gaze with an uncanny amount of focus for a drunk sixteen-year-old boy.

 

"Jinyoung," he said. "Let's never be like that."

 

Jinyoung nodded.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Promise?"

 

He closed his eyes, head starting to ache.

 

"Yeah - promise."

 

 

 

 

 

The day after that, cold wind blew unforgivingly at Mark's thin frame. Jinyoung spotted him near the school gates, glued to his phone and unbothered by the influx of students. Mark had the ability to cut everyone off, detach himself until he was no longer there, no longer with them. Jackson had bounced past Jinyoung to greet Mark, two hours of sleep and a burnt piece of toast apparently no deterrence to his energy. Jinyoung was not the same.

 

"Rough night?" Mark asked. He grinned as Jackson draped himself over his body.

 

" _Excruciating_ ," Jackson stressed. But between them, no one was even sure if Jackson remembered what he'd said last night. The bell had rung just as they were heading into school, Jackson parting ways first to get to his most dreaded lab.

 

"Where were you?" Jinyoung asked. He shared history with Mark.

 

Mark yawned. It seemed to have been a late night for all of them.

 

"Went out," he said. "I didn't get your text until three. Didn't think you wanted me over then."

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "How does someone permanently glued to their phone miss a text?"

 

Mark tapped the headphones resting comfortably around his neck.

 

"Blocks out social interaction," he explained. "Anyway, what did you and Jackson do?"

 

Jinyoung shrugged. "I don't know. We sat around. He brought over pizza and beer. We talked."

 

"For the whole night?" Mark asked.

 

"Yeah."

 

Mark didn't look surprised. It wasn't what they usually did - when all three of them were together, they'd play games for the whole night, or get drunk and talk about small, dumb things until they all passed out. Talking from seven to four wasn't what they did.

 

"I can imagine that," he said thoughtfully. Jinyoung frowned.

 

"What?"

 

"I can imagine you guys doing that," Mark said. He smiled. "You guys are similar people."

 

Jinyoung feigned offence.

 

"I don't recall the last time I was kicked out of the library for watching reruns of _Seinfeld_."

 

Mark grinned, but didn't reply. Jinyoung looked indignant.

 

"It wasn't even our generation!" He protested. "He can't even relate to their problems - we don't live in America, we weren't in our early thirties in the 90s and we will never live to own a cosy apartment in New York."

 

Mark laughed. By then, they were turning the corner and entering Mr Jang's history class. He slid into his seat, folding his headphones to shove them in his bag.

 

"You know what I mean," Mark said amiably. "You're both on the same wavelength. You understand each other."

 

It sounded so nice - to be on the same wavelength as somebody else, to understand them. Jinyoung pulled out his textbook and flipped to the page they'd looked at last lesson - conveniently tabbed with a bright-pink post-it note that Jackson had bought him for his birthday. How nice it was, to have someone understand you. He looked over to Mark, eyes still glued to his phone until Mr Jang entered the classroom and demanded their full attention.

 

Did Mark have that? Did he strive for it? Did he find it in Jinyoung and Jackson?

 

 

 

 

Mark was always late. It was a well-known fact. When Jinyoung said three, Mark would come at five. If Jinyoung said five, Mark would be there by seven. If Jinyoung said seven, Mark would come at midnight or not at all. Hence, it was a surprise when at eight o'clock, they heard a knock at the door.

 

Jinyoung and Jackson were in Jinyoung's room, sorting through Jinyoung's endless game collection to determine what they'd do for the night. Jackson, for all his talk, was more of a Nintendo guy, Super Smash Bros and Mario Kart on the floor staring back at him, an oddly serious expression dressing his face. Jinyoung rolled his eyes, turning his attention away from Jackson when he heard knocking.

 

"Hyung!” He called. “Someone’s at the door.”

 

Sometimes Jaebum invited friends over late. Sometimes, when their parents were out, he invited girls and guys and Jackson would turn up the television as loud as he could to block out their sounds, and then tease Jaebum about it the next morning.

 

"Why don't you get it?" Jaebum's voice had called back.

 

Jinyoung scowled. "It's not for me!" He stressed. " _Hyung_."

 

There was no reply. Instead Jinyoung heard an exasperated sigh and the sound of Jaebum walking out of his room and down the stairs. With a pleased expression, he turned back to Jackson and his decision.

 

Jaebum jumped the last few steps, hands lazily slung around the silver knob as he pulled it open. Standing at his doorstep was Mark, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a sheepish smile on his face. Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

 

"Mark," he said. His tone was blank, lacked harmony or delight because Jaebum had known Mark since he was seven. At seventeen, Mark was still nothing but his younger brother's kid friend.

 

"Hyung," the younger boy returned. "Is Jinyoung there?"

 

Jaebum motioned towards the familiar staircase. "He's with Jackson. Upstairs."

 

Mark nodded.

 

"Thanks."

 

He swerved around the older boy, allowing Jaebum to catch sight of the dried leaves stuck to the back of his jumper. Jaebum scoffed, arm extending to grab Mark before he walked up the stairs. Ignoring the younger’s confused expression; he began to pick out debris. His mother would be upset if she found dirt on their carpet.

 

Mark was silent, his eyes moving between Jaebum's hand and his jumper. The latter raised an eyebrow.

 

"Did you fall into a pile of leaves?" He asked dryly.

 

Mark scrunched his nose. "Something like that. I was playing with my cousin." He chewed on his lip, eyebrows furrowed as if he was struggling to express himself. "Thank you."

 

Jaebum nodded, closing the door behind Mark. He walked ahead of the younger boy, a few steps above when he called to Jinyoung.

 

"Mark is here."

 

It wasn't Jinyoung who opened the door. Instead Jackson stuck his head out, eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Mark?" He said as he narrowed his eyes.

 

Jaebum rolled his eyes. "In flesh and blood."

 

"Impossible." Jackson gasped when tuffs of blonde hair became apparent. "It can't be. The Mark Tuan, on time? Sound the alarms."

 

"You're so dramatic," Mark said.

 

Jackson clutched his heart.

 

"Easy for you to say," he cried. "You didn't have to wait for your friend for _three hours_ in the mall alone because he 'just woke up'."

 

"Will you ever let that go?" Mark asked.

 

"Can you return those wasted hours?"

 

Jackson looked satisfied when the latter couldn’t reply.

 

"Exactly."

 

Jaebum rolled his eyes, moving up the stairs with ease.

 

"I have an assignment due tomorrow," he said. He gave Jackson a meaningful glance. "Jinyoung might not, but if you start shrieking I will kick you out."

 

Jackson was offended.

 

"Why are you only talking to me? What about Mark?"

 

"Don't be dumb," Jaebum said, reaching the doorway of his room.

 

"The injustice," Jackson hissed.

 

Mark made his way into Jinyoung's room, shutting the door behind him so they could begin their all-nighter of Mario Kart, complete with Jackson’s shrieking and constant cries. Despite his threats, Jaebum didn't enter Jinyoung's room once throughout the whole night.

 

 

 

 

 

The clock in the kitchen read 8:42AM when Jaebum heard the rumbling and pounding of teenagers who had pulled an all-nighter and forgot about school the next day. He was sitting at the kitchen bench, marble cool against his elbows as he did a final check of his assignment, instant coffee providing a valuable pick-me-up in the early morning. He wasn't surprised when he saw his little brother and two best friends scramble down to the kitchen, each looking as dishevelled and sleep-deprived as the other. Jaebum sighed. He knew what was coming next.

 

"Hyung..." Jinyoung started slowly, stretching the word as if that would make him seem smaller, younger, more innocent than he would otherwise like to imply. Jackson was looking up at him with big eyes, Mark's mouth pulled into a pout. They'd planned this, Jaebum observed without reaction. They'd orchestrated it all.

 

Everything except the late wake up. Jaebum rolled his eyes.

 

"I'm leaving in five," he said.

 

He closed his laptop, moving to the door to grab his car keys. The sound of Jackson's delight and his fist-pump were disrupted by the sound of Mark calling shotgun, and the argument that eventually broke between the two of them as they scrambled to grab fruit for breakfast and race each other to the car.

 

It was Mark who ended up in the car first, shooting a cheeky grin at Jaebum as he buckled his seatbelt. Jackson pounded on the window, his expression indignant as Mark stuck out his tongue.

 

"Hyung!" He screeched. With the windows still rolled up, Jackson's voice permeated through the glass and into the car. Jinyoung was getting into the backseat when Jaebum reluctantly rolled down the window.

 

"You have five seconds to get in or we're driving off without you."

 

Jackson did, but not without complaint. As Jaebum reversed out, the younger boy cried foul play, Mark snickering in the seat next to him.

 

"He _pinched_ me!" Jackson was shrieking. "Tell him off, hyung! Tell him that's not how it works!"

 

Mark turned around. "I called shotgun first," he said.

 

"I hate you," Jackson replied. He changed his tactic almost immediately, eyes widening once again. "Ge, why didn't you give up your seat?"

 

Mark ignored him, and Jackson persisted again.

 

"Ge," he whined, "Ge, don't you love me? Good friends let other friends ride shotgun."

 

"Oh my god," it was Jinyoung who spoke this time. “Does it really matter?” He rubbed his face, trying to fight off sleep and his headache and the restlessness that came with all-nighters.

 

Jackson appeared to be offended.

 

"It's a matter of friendship," he huffed.

 

They arrived at school with two minutes to spare. Jaebum ran a hand through his hair, watching his brother and friends jump out with numerous words of admiration and flitting flattery. Jackson pressed his hands together.

 

"Thank you so much hyung!" He said. He winked. "I'll repay you one day."

 

His voice was uncomfortably sultry. Jaebum glared.

 

"If you ever do that again," he warned, "I'll choke you."

 

"Oh, kinky," Jackson was unaffected by sleep, it appeared. " _Harder_ , hyung."

 

"Oh my god shut up." Jinyoung dragged him out of the car by his backpack. "Thanks hyung."

 

"Yeah," Mark echoed, "Thanks Jaebum-hyung."

 

Mark was the only one left in the car. Jaebum turned to him and nodded.

 

"No problem," he said. Mark hopped out.

 

"Good luck with your assignment!"

 

The car turned and left. Mark watched Jaebum drive away, his attention shifting from them to the line of cars. The younger frowned, trying to suppress a relentless part of his brain that kept reimagining Jaebum's side-profile, his sharp jawline, the way he held the wheel - things he didn't see value in but nevertheless refused to leave. Jaebum was Jinyoung's older brother - a handsome boy, Mark had known that for quite a while, but it’d always been an impartial judgement. Now, it felt different. There was a potential, he realised. There was the potential to feel something for all the things he'd only observed before. He frowned, Jinyoung's voice pushing him out of his musings.

 

"Hey, the bell rang," he said.

 

Mark nodded.

 

"Yeah, coming."

 

 

 

 

"Jinyoung! I was just finishing up."

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes as he watched Jackson give a shit-eating grin, wiping sauce off the side of his mouth. Jackson had a part-time job at a small Chinese restaurant a few blocks from his house, one selling Canton food and supposedly smelling of 'home'. The sizzle of oil and a mixture of different foods that Jinyoung couldn't quite name invaded his nose, and he reminded himself to ask Jackson if all of Hong Kong smelt like a flavour invasion, or if it was just him talking big.

 

Ten minutes later Jackson was taking off his novelty hat, loudly declaring his departure in Cantonese as he picked up his backpack and his school uniform – the latter stuffed into a sports bag. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair – the same hand he attempted to touch Jinyoung with –and Jinyoung strategically moved away.

 

"That's disgusting," he said resentfully. Jackson scrunched up his nose.

 

"Honestly, you and Mark have no idea how grateful you should be that we're even friends."

 

"Grateful or not," Jinyoung replied doubtfully, "I still don't want your sweat on any part of my clothes or body."

 

Jackson shrugged - as if it really were Jinyoung's loss - and they walked to Jackson's house together. Jinyoung had finished all his homework in the library prior to coming, and Jackson believed schoolwork was an option not a choice - or he just did everything on the weekends, it was impossible to tell - so the night was wordlessly dedicated to soda and another round of Mario Kart. Perhaps Super Mario Bros if Jackson managed to dig it out. The wind was cold against their arms as Jinyoung shivered.

 

"Is Mark coming?" He asked.

 

Jackson shook his head. "He didn't reply. Maybe he will?"

 

"He probably won't," Jinyoung said. Jackson seemed to agree, stifling a yawn.

 

"I want to nap," he said.

 

Jinyoung nodded. "Ugh, I didn't manage to get enough sleep in my free. Youngjae started blowing into my ear half-way through."

 

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "I thought Mark would've stopped him?"

 

Jinyoung shook his head. "Mark was sleeping in the study room."   
 

"You didn't sleep there with him?"

 

"Didn't know he was in there until my free was over."

 

Jackson nodded. "Pity," he said seriously.

 

They knocked out on Jackson's bed, still sweaty and in their school uniforms. Jackson didn't seem to mind - he was more of a power-napper than someone who got healthy amounts of sleep at ten. They had made it to Jackson's a little past seven and Jackson had woken up at one, Jinyoung still sleeping soundly in his bed. He liked that.

 

Jinyoung in his bed.

 

Not in a sexual way - Jinyoung's posture didn't arouse him - just in a familiar way. Jinyoung sleeping in his bed felt familiar, like it was part of his home. They were comfortable enough to sleep next to each other, Jackson thought, they were comfortable enough to go over to each other’s houses and sleep. Jackson had always found sleeping to be such a vulnerable position to ever be in. When you were asleep, you caved into yourself, went into places you didn't allow yourself to go to consciously. What if you had an inappropriate dream? What if you had a scary dream? What if your dreams bled into reality and you ended up saying something, something embarrassing, something personal - the fear of undoing concerned Jackson. He had always been wary.

 

But with Jinyoung, it was easy. With Jinyoung, undoing was nothing but a mere confession of character. He could say something, explore what it meant, and then Jinyoung would nod and they would never speak about it publically again. Jackson liked that. He liked that a lot.

 

Jinyoung rolled over, and Jackson moved to lie on his back, Jinyoung's soft breathing the only sound in his bedroom. It was oddly comforting, having Jinyoung there. For all their quips and banter, in the end this was the best thing - the trust in silence, the trust that they would not bore each other.

 

Jinyoung's figure curved elegantly, and Jackson looked over. Jinyoung had always had a handsome face - it was attractive to look at, and Jackson was sure that any girl would be lucky enough to date such a considerate, good-looking boy - but his observation of Jinyoung's attractiveness arouse more than just admiration. It was an affectionate thought, one that made his insides warm. He wanted to grab Jinyoung, pull him closer towards him - he wanted to wake Jinyoung up, hear what he had to say when his mind was still laced with sleep. He wanted to talk to an honest Jinyoung, a Jinyoung with no barriers, no second thoughts - just raw, truthful thoughts. What would Jinyoung say? What would he talk about? It made Jackson feel giddy.

 

He wanted to talk more. He wanted to talk more with Jinyoung. He couldn't believe it - he'd never felt something like this. Something so uninhibited, something so pure.

 

Jinyoung woke up at two. He could feel the glare of something bright and his eyes had reluctantly opened. Jackson was sitting on his bed, a bright screen illuminating his face.

 

When Jinyoung yawned, Jackson looked over.

 

"Morning princess."

 

Jinyoung rubbed his eyes, too exhausted to slap his friend. "What time is it?"

 

"Two-oh-three."

 

He blinked. Once, twice. Then rolled back into Jackson's bed, groaning softly.

 

"Our sleep schedules are so fucked up."

 

Jackson laughed. "Yeah." He moved his phone towards Jinyoung, allowing the latter to see a cartoon screen-cap of a chicken named Mark. "Isn't this funny? I'm going to send it to Mark and tell him it's cuter than he'll ever be as revenge for calling shotgun."

 

Jinyoung shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. It tugged relentlessly at Jackson's heart.

 

"You're so dumb," he said affectionately, "So petty."

 

Jackson snorted. It was a quiet snort - the kind that one made at two AM when everyone was asleep.

 

"Says the King of Petty himself. I called you Jaehyun _once_ and you've never let it go."

 

"I didn't know it was too much to expect one of my best friends to remember my name," Jinyoung replied. "Sorry for having high expectations."

 

"Shut the fuck up."

 

"Like you should be talking."

 

"Whatever," Jackson muttered. "I like you better when you're sleeping. You're cuter that way."

 

Jinyoung's eyebrows furrowed. He held his breath for a second, and then another.

 

"What?"

 

"You're cuter when you sleep," Jackson repeated.

 

The sleep was getting to him. He was certain, because Jackson's words seemed to make him feel something more than a passing remark. A part of his body began to bloom, like flowers in his ribcage erupting from buds. A feeling so subtle yet so persistent, something undeniably there. No hammering heart, no staccato beats, just a change. Is this what sleep does to a person? Jinyoung bit his lip, his heart suddenly warm.

 

"You don't open your mouth when you sleep - it's refreshing," Jackson said. But Jinyoung chose to ignore that.

 

 

 

 

It was a Saturday night when Jackson came over again. Jinyoung's parents were downstairs watching television when Jackson snuck in beer in his backpack and the two got drunk at eleven when his parents had bid them a goodnight and reminded Jinyoung that they should be asleep before Sunday came. Naturally they ignored this request, hushed giggles creating a hazy atmosphere as they slumped against the frame of Jinyoung's bed, sliding into one of their conversations they always had whenever it was only two of them. They shared earbuds and Ed Sheeran sang softly as their minds clouded.

 

"Dad's on my back about coming over again," Jackson laughed. It was a soft sort of laugh, the kind neither muted nor forced. Jinyoung watched as his friend laid his head on his shoulder. "Says it's gonna make me lose focus on fencing if I keep going out."

 

Jinyoung hummed.

 

"I don't think it does," Jackson continued. "Coming here, I mean - I don't think it makes me lose focus. I think it gives me a sort of clarity."

 

Jinyoung shook his head, smiling. Hair fell in front of his eyes, but he didn't brush the strands away. "We're drunk. That's hardly clarity."

 

Jackson shook his head.

 

"Not like that." He said. "Talking to you - it gives me clarity."

 

Jinyoung took another swing of beer, cold liquid rolling down his throat.

 

"Mark says we're on the same wavelength," he said.

 

This time, Jackson hummed. "Mark said that?"

 

"He says we're similar."

 

At this, Jackson laughed. A more honest laugh this time, one of disbelief, the shattering of an illusion. Jinyoung could feel his heart stopping, a sense of concern muted by the buzz of alcohol and the energy expended on thinking. His face was warming. Was this disappointment? Jackson didn't think they were similar. Was he disappointed? Why was he disappointed? Why did he want them to be similar? Jinyoung's fingers curled around the can as Jackson spoke again.

 

"We're not similar." He said. "We're complementary."

 

Suddenly, Jinyoung's heart returned, warm spreading from his chest outwards.

 

"We fit each other," Jackson said. "I think our thoughts are aligned. They're going in the same direction."

 

The buzz made Jinyoung blissful. He could feel his heart, and it wasn't erratic or frightening, it was familiar, happy - as if it'd found its home. His words spilled out before he knew he'd said them, his thought-to-mouth filter oddly absent.

 

"I like that. I like talking to you." His lips formed a smile. "Your thoughts appeal to me."

 

"You appeal to me," Jackson blurted. Jinyoung didn't get to think about his own words when Jackson started talking. "You really...appeal to me. Every part of you. All the jokes and sarcasm and these kind of things…"

 

Jackson raised his head, eyes hazy but undeniably focused on Jinyoung's lips. Jinyoung himself felt that the daze was gone, no longer were they separated by a fog of clouded judgement, but suddenly they were here. In this one singular moment, in this one moment where Jinyoung had confessed he liked talking to Jackson and Jackson had confessed that Jinyoung appealed to him and they were oddly honest, oddly heartfelt like childhood friends rarely were. Did alcohol cloud judgement? Did late nights create beasts? Their sleep-deprived minds seemed so much more honest.

 

"Can I kiss you?" Jinyoung whispered.

 

Jackson nodded.

 

Jackson tasted like cheap beer and the Coca-Cola lollipop he'd been sucking on hours before. Jackson's lips weren't soft like a girl's, but they were somehow more honest than Jinyoung had ever been. This wasn't foreplay; they weren't leading into anything sexual. Jinyoung didn't touch Jackson's pants. But suddenly something sweet overcame him. Something like honey, a feeling that was thick and warm and fulfilling - one that seemed to seek comfort in this kiss, seemed to imply that this was right. Jinyoung kissed his best friend and all he could think about was how at home he felt. Did Jackson feel it too? Did Jackson see his worries disappear? Did Jackson think about his parents and fencing when they kissed? Jinyoung broke away, eyes searching for a reaction.

 

Jackson smiled. Then he grinned. Then he giggled. He licked his lips.

 

"Let's do that again," he said.

 

And they did. They kissed, again and again, feelings warming up Jinyoung's chest like flowers blooming in his ribcage. In between their kisses, Jinyoung couldn't place how or why, they talked, talked about Jinyoung's concerns and Jackson's fears, talked about the pressure of being more than Jaebum, but never too much more in case the brothers formed a rift, talked about fencing and becoming something more, achieving things that others hadn't. Doing things, becoming the people they wanted to be. Fear that they would never live up to the future selves they'd conjured in their minds, the successful versions of Jinyoung and Jackson, the ones who were satisfied with where they were, the versions who were fulfilled. And when their stresses had been vented, they kissed again. They kissed to remember the feeling of each other. They kissed to forget. They kissed too many times, as if all this friendship, all these conversations had been wasted because they'd never kissed, never fostered these feelings.

 

"I like you," Jinyoung repeated again. "I really like you. You appeal to me."

 

Jackson pecked his lips and laughed.

 

"I like you too."

 

 

 

 

At five-thirty AM Jackson woke up next to Jinyoung, both of them lying on his carpet floor. Jinyoung seemed so beautiful in his sleep, so ethereal, so peaceful. Desperately, Jackson wanted to enter his mind, wanted to pick through all those thoughts - learn more about him, kiss him more, learn how many worries they'd suppressed that they shared. He placed fingers between his own lips, tugging at the bottom lip. He'd kissed Jinyoung with these lips. Sitting himself up, he repeated this fact over and over - he'd kissed Jinyoung, he'd kissed Jinyoung on the lips.

 

He picked up the empty cans of beer they'd accumulated between the two of them, carefully arranging them into a plastic bag to dispose of at the bus stop when he left. Two empty cans made a clank when he dropped them in the bag, and then another when he added a third. It aroused Jinyoung from his sleep.

 

Jinyoung turned to his side, eyes watching idly as Jackson went around his room, searching for cans and disposing of them. His mind fluttered back to a few hours ago, hours where they'd kissed and talked and kissed, over and over again. He remembered the sensation of Jackson against his lips and his heart was all warm again, all kind and all lovely. It was as if tulips had suddenly blossomed in his heart.

 

"This all happened, right?" It was Jackson who had spoken then. He met Jinyoung's eyes with a faltering gaze, one seeking approval. "That thing, all those kisses…"

 

Jinyoung bit his lip. He nodded.

 

"Yeah."

 

Jackson placed another can into the plastic bag before moving back to lie down next to Jinyoung. He turned his side, facing the latter with a strange expression. His eyebrows furrowed.

 

"When we wake up again," he said, "You won't forget all of this, right? This isn't something that we bury."

 

Jinyoung frowned.

 

"Of course not," he said. And Jackson's heart began to warm.

 

"You're sure? When we wake up, this will still have happened."

 

Jinyoung's eyes curved into crescents.

 

"Yeah, it would've." His hand reached out clumsily in an attempt to stroke Jackson's cheek. Instead he played with the latter's hair. "And it will happen again."

 

It was Jackson's turn to smile.

 

"Promise?" He asked.

 

"Promise."

 

 

 

 

On Monday, Mark was waiting at the gates as he always did. Large black headphones looked like earmuffs, no doubt playing something loud enough to drown out the shrieks and squeals of students. Jinyoung and Jackson met him at the gates as they always did, Jackson pulling his headphones away while Jinyoung rolled his eyes. Mark gave them a sheepish grin.

 

"Sorry about Saturday," he said. "I had a family dinner. What did I miss?"

 

The two boys exchanged looks, and before Mark was able to give them a look of his own, the bell had rung and suddenly the stream of students entering the school had turned into a stampede. They didn't have time to answer his question as they joined the stream, trying to avoid toes as they manoeuvred themselves to their respective classes. Mark and Jackson broke off first, leaving Jinyoung as they moved into the nearest building, heading up bleak concrete steps to the second floor.

 

"So," Mark said. He was pressed against Jackson's side, excited juniors rushing up the stairs two at a time. He rolled his eyes. "What did I miss on Saturday?"

 

"Oh you know," Jackson tried to make it casual. "The usual...we gamed, we drank, we talked…"

 

_We kissed_ , he thought, but he decided to keep this to himself.

 

"Sounds like the usual," Mark agreed. He looked over to his friend, and Jackson could immediately sense that something was up. Mark was observing him.

 

"What are you looking at?" Jackson tried not to sound edgy, but he'd never been good at keeping his emotions hidden.

 

Mark continued staring at him, biting on his lip as he held a thoughtful expression.

 

"You look sort of distressed," he observed.

 

Jackson let out a sharp bark of laughter.

 

"Distressed?" His voice rose. "Me? No way!"

 

Mark's lips were changing again. They formed a straight line. "Did you and Jinyoung fight?"

 

"Us? No way!" He laughed. "We never fight!"

 

"One time you guys stopped speaking for a week because he'd lost your copy of Super Smash Bros."

 

"That was different," Jackson objected. "That was a childhood treasure."

 

He was hoping that Mark's anecdote would distract the latter from his previous prodding, but Jackson was out of luck when his friend continued. They turned the corner towards their maths class.

 

"You have that look on your face," Mark said. "The one that says _I have a secret and I don't want to explicitly tell you but I still want you to figure it out by guessing or by constantly prodding me_."

 

"I do not have a look that has a name that long," Jackson retorted.

 

Mark smiled. "You're wearing it right now."

 

They were heading closer to room twenty-eight, and for once Jackson breathed out a sigh of relief upon seeing it. In an unexpected turn of events, it appeared that maths class would be his escape. Jackson held off Mark with vague distractions as they moved closer and closer to the open door, exhaling loudly when they stepped into the familiar room. They resumed their seats towards the back of the classroom and Jackson pulled out a half-used notebook and some pens, suddenly pleased to be in class. Mark dropped his bag at his seat.

 

"Wow," He breathed. "Jackson Wang, ready to start class? Now I really know you're hiding something from me."

 

Jackson Wang was indignant.

 

"When did you become so nosy?" He said accusingly, jabbing a finger in his friend's direction. "I remember that one time I got my first girlfriend and I'd been itching to tell you, but all you'd done when I hinted at it was smile and go back to your phone! Who are you Mark Tuan? You're changing before my very eyes!"

 

Mark was unfazed. "What happened between you and Jinyoung?"

 

Jackson was about to launch into another accusation when Mrs Park entered the classroom and proceeded to start the lesson. He thought that the beginning of maths would be a welcome relief, but to Jackson's chagrin, the shift in his relationship with Jinyoung scratched at the back of his mind, preoccupying him with a blatant desire to tell Mark. Mark, arguably his oldest friend, the person he told almost everything to (some things could never be said) - he couldn't keep a secret from Mark, he didn't know how to. It just seemed right, and even his new secret seemed to know _. Tell Mark_ , it whispered _, Mark deserves to know. Mark is your best friend_! (Jinyoung was something else at the moment _.) Mark has to know. Why shouldn't Mark know? Jinyoung is his friend as well._

 

_Tell Mark._

 

_Tell Mark._

 

_Tell Mark_.

 

"Oh alright!" He muttered loudly. A few students in front of him turned to look at Jackson, mildly amused but not surprised by the boy's outburst. He had a habit of talking, sometimes to himself. Mrs Park coughed a few times before she continued her explanation of cylindrical shells.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Jackson had swapped his pen out for a pencil and was scribbling a message on the side of his book. He slid the book across the table so that Mark could see what he'd written, along with his pencil because Mark never had any pencils and writing in pen would mean that his confession was permanent.

 

_On Saturday right, I kinda kissed Jinyoung accidentally…_

 

Mark scribbled a message and slid the book back.

 

_Accidentally_?

 

Perhaps that wasn't the right word.

 

_Or not accidentally...we kinda kissed a few times…_

 

 Mark raised an eyebrow, wrote a quick message, and passed the book back.

 

_:o_

 

Jackson winced.

 

_:o indeed._

 

When he passed the book back, Mark looked down at his message, and then back up at Mrs Park. What did Mark think? One word and a face didn't convey everything Jackson desired. What were Mark's thoughts? Did Mark have any thoughts? He looked at the side-profile of his friend, a frown etched into his own face as he tried to read signs from Mark's jawline and nose. Were they angry? Disapproving? Confused? He couldn't make any sense of it. Like his words, Mark’s face was inexpressive and vague. As Jackson stared at his friend, Mark had scribbled another message, pushing the book back as his eyes refocused on the board.

 

_Let's talk about this at lunch with Jinyoung._

 

Jackson sighed, but he wasn’t sure if it was out of relief or apprehension.

 

Lunch had never come slower. Never, and one time Jackson had been stuck with a crappy sub for history and had wasted almost two hours listening to him drone on about the Cold War and its effects on Australia. It had been excruciatingly painful. But that was nothing compared to the anxiety he felt now. Mark's reaction - Mark's reaction was almost everything and nothing at the same time. Mark's reaction was nothing because Mark rarely reacts, but it was everything because until now they'd always been a trio, always been the three of them, as tight as thieves, like a band of mischief and threes wherever they go. It was always the three of them - even when it wasn't, there was always an invitation. It was always invite Mark and Jinyoung, never or, never choose, never only one. It never felt right. It never was right unless all three was invited.

 

Jackson could feel his stomach doing somersaults as he sat down at their usual table.

Mark and Jinyoung had chemistry together before lunch, and hadn't arrived yet. Jackson attempted to calm his nerves, gulping down a tuna sandwich whilst bothering Namjoon, a friend from his biology class. This was it, he thought. This was what would make or break their friendship - a moment of romance - a single kiss (multiple kisses, really). He could feel his body shuddering as he tugged on one of his rings. This was where things would change. This was where they would all go down.

 

When Mark and Jinyoung arrived, they walked towards him at an agonisingly slow pace. It was almost as if they were unbothered the stress of a changing friendship - as if it had no effect. It was an incredulous thought to Jackson. Being neutral towards potential change, not wanting to read every situation to discover any sort of evidence that would predict how their conversation would go. Jackson couldn't understand why they took so long to sit down, why Jinyoung fiddled with the plastic of his bread so slowly, why Mark made small talk instead of getting to the point. Every moment they spent chatting made the gymnast in Jackson's stomach double his flipping speed.

 

"So," Mark finally said. Jackson was going crazy. "Jackson told me what happened on Saturday night."

 

Jinyoung, who had just managed to open the plastic packaging, dropped his bread and turned to Mark. Mark seemed unbothered.

 

"I need to ask you guys," he said. "Are you guys together then?"

 

That made the two boys freeze.

 

Together; the thought had never occurred to Jackson, never in its entirety. He looked at Mark, words suddenly dying in his throat. He was, uncharacteristically, speechless. His thoughts were working double-time in his head. Together – where they together? There had been a dynamic switch, he knew that - but the classification of his relationship with Jinyoung had remained a vague and unheard of topic in his mind until Mark had spoken about it now. The gears were shifting, his mind was working. Jinyoung was looking at him too now, his expression unreadable, ready to go with whatever Jackson had to say. A part of Jackson had a feeling that unlike himself, Jinyoung had thought about this. Jinyoung had an answer.

 

Now Jackson just had to say the right one.

 

"Um…" He looked over to Jinyoung. He was, unexpectedly, speechless. The latter did not give him any hints - nothing discrete really. He would've appreciated a nod or a shake of the head. "I guess we are…?"

 

"Boyfriends then?" Mark asked. Jackson's eyebrows shot up, a blush rushing to his cheeks. Jinyoung was oddly silent, his face redder than a tomato. "Are you guys dating?"

 

Mark's questions did nothing to soothe the flush working its way across Jackson's face. Jinyoung too looked bashful, his eyes downcast as he avoided everyone's gaze. Mark watched them carefully - if he was pleased by their flustered reactions, he hadn't given any sort of indication - moving to tear the plastic of his lychee popper instead.

 

"It's your lives," he said finally. "You can do whatever you want in them. I always had a sort of…"

 

He struggled to find the word.

 

"Inkling," he decided, "That you guys would at one point get together, or at least one of you would confess. Someone had to have feelings at one point. You guys were too like-minded to not, at one point, feel something."

 

Now it was Mark's turn to look nervous.

 

"Let's just…" He bit his lip. "Just...continue to be friends yeah? Continue this group of three." 

 

For the first time in this whole conversation, Jinyoung and Jackson's heads shot up, furiously nodding as if this was all they'd wanted from Mark all along.

 

 

 

 

Something was going to change when Jackson and Jinyoung fell for each other. Mark knew it had to, and he knew this without any kind of rueful feeling. What could he do anyway? It wasn't like he could stop them, command them not to fall in love in favour of maintaining the group dynamic. He could do nothing but accept that things would change. Deep down he knew they were going to, they had to - what was he expecting ? He knew Jinyoung and Jackson would fall in love, he knew that their friendship with each other was different to the friendship he shared with both of them. Their friendship had always been deeper, it'd always been more effortless, more like complementary souls than people with things in common. It had never really bothered Mark, it had always just existed. Why bother over things that you couldn't change?

 

Two weeks had passed since Jackson and Jinyoung's first kiss. Jinyoung's parents were out once again and he'd invited the two of them to sleepover, just as they always had on Saturday nights. As per usual, Jinyoung had messaged them to arrive at five. It was nine PM now, and Mark was standing outside Jinyoung and Jaebum's clean, wood-coloured door. He knocked three times, waiting politely at their porch.

 

Mark counted thirty seconds. There was nothing but silence - no muffled footsteps, no yelling - no one seemed to be approaching the door. Mark frowned, knocking again. He waited, and then tried again.

 

Mark took a step back, fishing out his phone to call Jinyoung. From the front of the house, he could see Jaebum's bedroom light on, and from the side of the house a warm orange hue from Jinyoung's room lit up the leaves on their big oak tree. People were definitely home. He frowned. Usually, one of the three boys would open the door - usually within the first set of knocks. His finger thumbed over Jinyoung's number when the door opened.

 

Jaebum stood in a tank top and sweatpants, his hair pushed back.

 

"Mark," he greeted. "Sorry, I don't think the two peanuts heard you knock."

 

Mark nodded. His eyes moved to the elder's exposed arms, before moving back to his face.

 

"No problem," he said. "Thanks, hyung."

 

Mark stepped into the house, shutting the door behind him as Jaebum moved off to his room. He walked up the stairs quietly, socked feet and carpet muffling the sound of his movements. Mark had always been a quiet boy. He moved up slowly towards Jinyoung's room. The door was ajar - open just enough so that Mark could peak in before he entered. He was wary now that Jinyoung and Jackson were in a relationship. Before, they would've been deciding on a game before Mark came, Jackson forever torn between Super Mario Bros and Mario Kart, Jinyoung rolling his eyes and making cynical remarks as he leaned against the frame of his bed. Now, Mark realised that they would need privacy. He leaned in and saw his best friends sitting on Jinyoung's bed, backs against the wall with their fingers entwined.

 

They were talking softly - Mark could make out words in-between their whispering, laughter occasionally filling his ears. It was something whimsical, something serious – something they both enjoyed. He could see them clearly, and he could predict what would happen next. He could see himself walking in, he could imagine the way Jackson would immediately release Jinyoung's hand, the latter straightening his back. They'd laugh awkwardly, Mark guessed, and then ask him what he wanted to play. They had agreed to still remain friends - they had to, seven years of friendship didn't disappear just because two of the three were dating - but something felt wrong about disturbing them. Something made him linger at the door, hand almost at the knob to push it open. Neither Jinyoung nor Jackson seemed to notice him.

 

Mark bit his lip, retracting his arm. He couldn’t interrupt them. Instead he moved to sit near the door frame. Mark pulled out his phone, scrolling through his twitter feed in an attempt to pass time and avoid an awkward encounter. It took him a few minutes to realise that he couldn't sit outside forever. Eventually one of them would notice and look at him funny, and then realise that Mark was waiting outside because he didn't want to interrupt the lovebirds, and that would be _even more_ awkward, so he surveyed the second floor of Jinyoung's house. His eyes eventually landed on a familiar door. _Jaebum's room_.

 

Mark picked up his backpack and, still preoccupied with his phone, made his way slowly towards Jinyoung's brother's room. Without second thought he pushed open the door.

 

"Jaebum-hyung do you mind if I hang…" Mark's words died in his throat as he looked up at one of his best friend's brother.

 

Jaebum was sitting at his desk, headphones hanging off his ears as his monitor displayed a lewd video of a young girl - boy, maybe - giving a blowjob. It was clear from Jaebum's furrowed eyebrows and difficult expression that his hand had previously been in his pants.

 

Jaebum frowned.

 

"Don't you knock?"

 

Mark slowly pocketed his phone.

 

"Sorry," he echoed.

 

He bit his lip, eyes moving between Jaebum and the screen. The two of them remained still, engulfed by silence. They thought out their next movements carefully, Jaebum’s expression serious and unwavering as he met the younger’s eyes. Unexpectedly, it was Mark who broke the silence. He didn’t look away.

 

"Does that sort of thing turn you on, Jaebum-hyung?"

 

Jaebum didn't reply. His eyes remained fixed on Mark, expression unreadable. Mark’s eyes widened, and he looked almost adorable.

 

"Would you be turned on if I did that, hyung?"

 

Jaebum remained silent, carefully watching the younger. When no objection was given, Mark moved to the elder’s bed, backpack abandoned at the door. He sat on his knees, looking at Jaebum expectantly. Jaebum's eyes darkened as Mark bit his lip.

 

"Hyung?" He asked again.

 


	2. decision

On Sunday, Jinyoung and Jackson walked down the stairs at noon, conversation light like their padded feet. Downstairs, Jaebum was in the kitchen, tossing an apple to Mark. The latter was perched on a stool near the kitchen bench, backpack out of sight. Jinyoung and Jackson frowned, eyeing their friend. He looked like he'd just gotten up, hair ruffled and messy, hoodie crumpled as if he'd slept in it. Mark never came in the morning. He either showed up at ten PM or not at all. Jaebum himself seemed unbothered, grabbing butter from the fridge to spread on his toast.

 

"He just came in," Jaebum explained before they could ask. "You guys weren't up, so I let him in and gave him an apple."

 

"Bullshit," Jackson called. Jaebum only raised an eyebrow, but Jinyoung could see Mark glance meaningfully at his older brother, an expression he couldn't fully decipher. "You're never up before midday."

 

"We're past noon," Jaebum replied dryly. "Anyway, Jinyoung has cram school at two. You guys better eat and get out before Mum gets pissed. You can't miss another lesson."

 

"It's twelve-thirty! Why are you so keen on kicking me out?"

 

Jaebum didn't reply. He buttered two slices of toast, offering the second one to Mark. Jinyoung watched his friend carefully.

 

"Why didn't you come last night?" He asked. Mark chewed on the toast thoughtfully, shifting his hoodie so that it covered more of his neck.

 

"I forgot to check my phone," he lied. "I thought you guys would hang on today as well, so I came when I woke up."

 

Jinyoung stared at him wordlessly, unable to correctly surmise or assume anything. There was something that could be there, he thought. There was a maybe there, a possibility. Eventually, he shrugged. He began to fix toast for himself and Jackson, eyes occasionally flitting back to Jaebum and Mark. Jaebum didn't seem to leave the kitchen. Instead he settled into the stool next to Mark, absently eating his toast while Jackson accused him of playing favourites.

 

"Mark was down here when I was making toast," Jaebum rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you have your boyfriend to make you breakfast, don't you?"

 

Despite his reddening face, Jackson carried on.

 

"You would've heard us walking down!" He accused the elder. "You should look after your youngers! We should've been offered toast first."

 

"I didn't know I was your personal maid," Jaebum deadpanned. He glared. "You don't even live here."

 

"Mark doesn't either!"

 

"He doesn't," Jaebum agreed. He looked at Mark. "I'm going past your house to go work. I'll drop you off."

 

He then looked back at Jackson.

 

"See?" He said. "I'm kicking him out as well."

 

Jackson scowled.

 

"Where's my offer? Are you just going to let me take the train alone?" His lips formed a pout. "What if I get kidnapped, hyung? What if some bad men start following me home and corner me in an abandoned alleyway and you find my body parts in a rubbish dump just off the park?"

 

Jaebum frowned.

 

"How many of those stupid crime shows have you two been watching?"

 

Jackson squawked, and proceeded to defend the integrity of his favourite shows. Jinyoung rolled his eyes, dropping two slices of bread into the toaster before he settled down next to Mark. Jinyoung and Jackson slid in and out of their relationship effortlessly but consciously - a decision they'd made to preserve the trio they'd worked so hard to build. Around Mark, they became friends again, close friends, teasing friends - never too serious, never too affectionate. When Jackson tried to take a bite of Jinyoung's toast he faked disgust and told him to get his own - he mocked Jackson's drool rather than laughing at him affectionately, endured Jackson's slaps without the presence of his soothing hand to rub it better. Mark grinned throughout the whole thing, toast in one hand as he slid in the occasional remark.

 

"I'll smash you in Mario Kart," Jackson said seriously after Mark had said something cheeky.

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "Not if I don't whip you first." He groaned. "You're getting crumbs on the floor!"

 

Jaebum eyed the specks littering their tiled floor.

 

"You better clean that up," he told Jinyoung. The latter frowned, eyes moving towards Jaebum’s seat.

 

"Hey!" He cried. "You left crumbs as well! _Hyung_."

 

His older brother smirked. "I'm not the one inviting friends over. Clean it up."

 

Mark bit his lip to stop a smile spreading across his face as Jaebum placed his plate in the sink, moving towards the stairs.

 

"Wash my plate as well, okay Jinyoung?"

 

Jinyoung groaned. Jackson had finished the rest of his toast - or whatever hadn't fallen on the floor - and was itching to start their promised round of Mario Kart. He tugged on Mark, who was still chewing on his apple.

 

"Hurry up," Jackson groaned. "God, you eat so _slow_."

 

"Fuck off," Mark replied. It had no bite. Jackson was bouncing on his feet.

 

"Ugh, come on – we don't have much time!"

 

It was true. By the time Jackson had dragged them both upstairs and set up Jinyoung's console, it was bordering on one. He was getting ready to launch a red shell at Jinyoung - only moments away from the finish line because Jackson knew how to create the most tragic loss - when Jaebum opened the door.

 

Jinyoung did lose. But so did Jackson. Because just as he had released his red shell, Mark had released a red shell on him, leading to both Jinyoung and Jackson feeling cheated as Mark claimed first place for the round.

 

"Whatever," Jinyoung muttered bitterly. None of them had bothered to acknowledge Jaebum at this point, still consumed by their game. "Mark wasn't going to come first anyway."

 

Jackson grinned, pumping his fist in the air victoriously as he dropped the remote in his lap. "And yet again, Jackson Wang cleans the floor with his impressive array of skills."

 

"We're playing Mario Kart," Mark rolled his eyes. "What kind of skill does it require to play a game made for ten year olds?"

 

Jackson looked horrified, and was just about to tell Mark that Mario Kart, contrary to popular belief, was actually a game based on a considerable amount of skill (and luck) and that age didn't determine the difficulty of mastering any game when Jaebum cleared his throat.

 

"I'm leaving right now. If you're not in the car in two minutes I'm leaving without you."

 

Reluctantly, the three boys dropped their consoles, Jackson still muttering under his breath.

 

"Hey Jaebum-hyung," Mark said as he approached the doorway. "Do you know where I left my backpack?"

 

When Mark left Jinyoung's room, Jackson turned to the latter, a smile tugging at his lips. Jinyoung watched his expression warily, feigning disgust before a similar expression fell onto his face. The flowers were blooming again.

 

"See you," he said.

 

Jackson grinned. "Yeah. Have fun at cram school. Text me lots!"

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes.

 

"Like I need to. You're always texting me."

 

"I just think about a lot of things. I think everyone needs to hear about them." 

 

"Your last text was about the wonders of tying a knot with both one piece of string and two."

 

"But isn't that cool? We live in a world where having two strings isn't a requirement to make a knot, but it's done anyway. I just think we live in such a wonderful place."

 

Jinyoung shook his head, a grin warming Jackson's heart. "You're so dumb."

 

He made small finger hearts, winking.

 

"You love me though!"

 

Jinyoung bit his lip, staring at Jackson's wide smile and trying to figure out why his stomach felt like spring at ten AM.

 

Their moment did not last.

 

"Jackson you have thirty seconds!" Mark called from the doorway.

 

Jackson rolled his eyes. "You're such a mood-killer!" He screamed back, before realising he wanted to be on Mark's good side. " _Ge_."

 

They didn't have time to kiss. Instead Jackson hastily grabbed his overnight bag and zipped it carelessly, feeling his jeans for the box that was his phone.

 

"Bring whatever I've left here tomorrow yeah?" He said. They didn't have time to kiss, but Jackson pecked him on the lips anyway. "See you tomorrow."

 

Jinyoung smiled, biting the inside of his cheek.

 

"See you tomorrow too."

 

Jackson flew down the stairs and made it into the backseat of Jaebum's car just as he was pulling out.

 

 

 

 

Jackson kicked the back of Jaebum's seat, sinking lower into his chair as they passed the familiar roundabout near his work.

 

"Why are you dropping me off first?" He whined. "I live closer to your work than Mark does!"

 

Jaebum didn't answer, one hand on the steering wheel as he hummed along to the R&B song playing through his stereo. From the rear-view mirror, Jackson could see Mark smirking at him.

 

"You're playing favourites," Jackson accused. "You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?"

 

Jaebum raised an eyebrow. "We're two minutes from your house. Do you want me to turn around and drop Mark off now?"

 

Jackson seemed intrigued. "Can you?"

 

The elder rolled his eyes.

 

"I have a job to get to."

 

Jackson shrugged. "Well, this wouldn't be an issue if you'd planned properly. I mean, do you not even know where I live? Do you have no sense of direction?"

 

Jaebum sighed.

 

"I will drop you right here," he warned, "In the middle of this intersection if you don't shut up."

 

Jackson looked horrified.

 

"You wouldn't!" He cried. His lips formed a shit-eating grin. "You love me too much."

 

The sound of Jaebum unlocking the car doors made Mark raise an eyebrow, his smirk becoming more and more prominent.

 

"Try me," Jaebum dared.

 

Jackson was still confident.

 

"You couldn't force me out," he retorted. He pushed himself up, meeting Jaebum’s eyes through the mirror.

 

"I wouldn't have to." The elder said. The car slowed at the traffic light, pulling up behind a neglected, old Mercedes. Jackson had always wondered why people bought such expensive cars when some of them were offensively ugly and uncared for. "Mark would."

 

Jackson gasped. "Mark would never!"

 

Mark met his eyes through the mirror, a faux-apologetic look donning his lips.

 

"He is my ride home," he said slowly, as if it made up for the hypothetical betrayal. Wide eyes and a soft smile did nothing to affect the psyche of Jackson Wang. He was a taken man.

 

He settled back into his seat, a frown forming slowly on his face.

 

"Both of you are treading on fucking thin ice in the Jackson Wang Friend Directory," he warned them. "Mark, I will demote you below Bambam."

 

Mark laughed.

 

"Love you too Jacks."

 

Jackson huffed, making a big deal out of leaving Jaebum's car when they arrived at his house, jerking open the door with a fierce tug. Jaebum rolled his eyes as the younger male slammed the door, an indignant look on his face as he retreated towards his house.

 

"Favouritism!" He accused, because Jackson was always one to have the last word. He hauled himself towards his front door before Jaebum could bite back.

 

Inside the car, Mark locked his phone, lying it face down on his lap as he turned to meet Jaebum's eyes. He bit his lip, leaning in for a kiss before Jaebum pulled back.

 

"Not in front of Jackson's house," he said, and began driving.

 

They sat in silence for a while,  Jaebum's eyes looked on the road as Mark turned away from him, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched the scenery pass. They turned out of the suburban houses towards the main road, shops filling the spaces where apartments and homes had once been. When they stopped at a red light, Jaebum leaned over.

 

"Mark," he said, and when the younger turned around he kissed him.

 

The car behind gave a friendly honk when the light turned green. Jaebum turned away and continued driving, his brother's friend wordless and blank, as if Jaebum had taken away all his thoughts. Mark bit his lip, phone still in his lap, untouched.

 

"I like you," he said softly.

 

The ends of Jaebum’s lips quirked, his eyes never leaving the road. Mark had been at Jinyoung's house enough times to know that his friend's brother wasn't often serious, sometimes dating, sometimes just hooking-up - there had been such an array of faces to meet at breakfast that Mark didn't ever bother to learn their names. Jinyoung had accounted for that by the premise of university, the culture fostered there, the amount of stress that relieved itself in unconventional methods. Jinyoung himself didn’t really understand this habit. To Jinyoung, Mark knew, love was all or nothing. Forever or farewell. There were no short flings, no momentary attractions - Jinyoung flirted, but would never execute. Everything was serious. Jaebum was different.

 

Jaebum acted in ways contradictory to how he thought. For a moment, Mark’s heart threatened to break through his body. The elder met his eyes through the rear-view mirror.

 

"I like you too," he said finally. He laughed, as if he found the whole situation amusing. "I’d like to see where this goes.”

 

Mark's eyebrows shot up, and Jaebum fought the urge to ruffle his brother's friend's hair.

 

"But let's keep this a secret for a while," he proposed. His fingers curled around the steering wheel, as if in apprehension. "Until we figure everything out."

 

Mark wasn’t against this. "When it's serious," he said.

 

Jaebum nodded.

 

"When it's serious, we'll tell them."

 

The rest of the trip passed in silence, both boys biting back smiles. The ten minute ride seemed to pass too quickly, Jaebum pulling up to Mark's house just as fast as he'd left Jackson's. Jaebum reached out to ruffle Mark's hair.

 

"See you later."

 

"Yeah," Mark breathed, "See you later."

 

He reached over to open the door, backpack slung on one shoulder as he hopped out. Jaebum resisted the urge the hurl the boy back, grab his attention to kiss him feverishly, childishly, more seriously than he was sure that he meant. But Jaebum was twenty-two, not sixteen and headstrong, and he knew that while Mark might be eighteen in September, he was still playing romance with a youth. So he held himself, composed himself, resisted all urges and ignored the way Mark's face fell - as if he were expecting something more - waving goodbye as he headed off.

 

The wind was cool against Jaebum's skin when he rolled down the windows, a soulful tune drifting into his ears. He tried to make sense of what had happened last night. Recall how Mark had made his way into Jaebum's room, how he'd dropped to his knees, how he'd fallen asleep on Jaebum's bed, rolled in his sheets as if he belonged there. They hadn't been drunk. Jaebum had been sober. They'd done this all consciously, woken up consciously. Tentatively cuddled, moving towards each other hesitantly, as if afraid the other would shy away.

 

Mark had always been his brother's friend. Always wide-eyed and star struck by Jaebum, always admiring - always, somehow, below him, because Jaebum had experience and answers and they were all always trying to keep up, always running to match his pace. He'd never tried to see more to Mark than his brother's friend. Never let the admiration progress to anything more than a childlike crush. He frowned.

 

Mark was cute. Mark was sensible. Mark was mature - Mark lacked the emotional volatility that Jaebum often associated with high school romances. He was level-headed, he was pleasant - a relationship, or whatever they were planning, with Mark would be uncomplicated. It would be easy. Jaebum could do easy.

 

He could do Mark.

 

 

 

 

Jaebum and Jinyoung's parents came back home on Sunday evening. Jaebum knew because as he was finishing up his shift, his mother called to ask him to pick up Jinyoung.

 

Jinyoung had cram school in a street filled with food stalls and bubble tea - a lucrative business in an area filled with hungry students desperate for a snack. Jaebum parked near a bubble tea store and bought drinks for himself and his brother. The lighting was harsh and bright in the store, colourful letters lit up in bright pinks and blues. He left the store as Jinyoung was coming out, bag slung over his shoulders as he searched for their parent's car. Instead, he saw Jaebum.

 

"Hyung," he moved towards his brother. He eyed the bag in Jaebum's hands, waiting expectantly for his brother to hand him his drink. "Thanks."

 

"No problem," Jaebum replied. "Mum and dad are home."

 

"When did they get back?"

 

"Around five I think? Maybe six."

 

They headed into Jaebum's car, Jinyoung fiddling with the entertainment system to connect his phone. A cheery pop song screamed through dusty speakers and both boys winced, Jinyoung scrambling to lower the volume.

 

"Didn't know you were into this." Jaebum said. He scoffed - a sound halfway in-between a chuckle, as if he found it funny.

 

Jinyoung groaned. He settled further into his seat, his legs stretching to touch the front of the car. "I'm tired," he moaned. "Listen, I just want to hear something fun and dumb - let me _live_."

 

Outside, the sun had disappeared. Warm oranges lit up the street, the occasional neon pink advertising a café or dessert bar. The leaves seemed to resemble the colour of seaweed. Jinyoung stared out the window, finger tracing a line of dust that had formed along the ledge.

 

"What made you decide to take my friends home?" He asked idly.

 

"Would you rather I not?" came Jaebum's reply. Jinyoung shook his head. A blur of streetlights and green trees passed him - the park.

 

"You don't usually do that."

 

"Sometimes I feel nice," Jaebum hummed. "Don't tell Jackson that."

 

Jinyoung laughed. "No promises."

 

He rarely fought with his older brother. Perhaps when they were little they had had minor arguments, but even then they'd been infrequent. When Jinyoung was fourteen, he'd suspected it came from mutual understanding, a respect for each other's characters and privacy. As he got older, he began to wonder whether it stemmed from mutual respect or simply an age gap, one that made Jaebum see him less as an equal and more like a child. Truthfully, was Jaebum a brother to him in the way that Mark was, or was he more like a second-father figure, a parent in the form of a young adult? Jinyoung couldn't answer this.

 

"So," Jaebum broke him away from his thoughts. "When were you going to tell me that you're dating Jackson?"

 

Jinyoung's eyebrows shot up. He felt his body stiffen with confusion as he turned around, facing the mild expression on his brother's face.

 

"You didn't even tell me you were gay," his brother remarked. He was unfazed.

 

Jinyoung frowned, still frozen. How had Jaebum known? Who had told him? Jinyoung chewed on the inner part of his cheek, lips sealed. His brother raised an eyebrow.

 

"Are you?" He asked.

 

Jinyoung couldn’t answer immediately. He looked straight ahead, watching the couples roam the night markets. A pair of girls had linked arms and were looking at a pop-up store selling beanies. He wondered absently if they were a couple.

 

"I, I don't know," Jinyoung finally stuttered. His brother looked expectant, as if still waiting for an answer, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I don't know…what I'm attracted to, or what I’m interested in. I just know who I like, you know? Boy or girl, I don't really know."

 

He shook his head.

 

"I don't know," he said again. "I never thought about it. I don't know what I want. What I'm attracted to. I just…"

 

Jackson popped up then. Jackson, and the giddy feeling that came with thinking of his stupid smile, his words - both sincere and in jest - the feeling of thinking of someone you really liked, really, really cared for, affection seeping through even the dimmest parts of his mind. Jinyoung smiled, thinking about the way they cuddled, the way they laughed, the way Jackson was never good at any game created by a company other than Nintendo.

 

"I just really like Jackson," Jinyoung finished. He bit his lip, flushing as he admitted his feelings. When had being sincere felt so strange?

 

He nodded, as if he was satisfied with his own answer.

 

"Anyway," he continued. "How did you know I was dating Jackson?"

 

"Mark told me," Jaebum said. Jinyoung stiffened. That wasn't like Mark. Mark wasn't chatty, especially about other people's business. Jaebum must've noticed Jinyoung's change, as he quickly added, "He probably thought I already knew. I don't blame him. Jackson's been coming over here a lot more - and that's saying something, since he practically lives here - and you've been disappearing to his house a lot more often. It would be natural for me to already know, right?"

 

Jaebum's logic made sense, but still Jinyoung didn't let down his guard. Something made him wary. Something about Jaebum, something about Mark. He wanted to name the feeling, make sense of how he felt, but Jaebum once again interrupted him from his thoughts.

 

"You don't have to know anything," he said softly. "About who you are, or what you want. At this point, I think just knowing you like someone is enough. Don't worry about anything else."

 

Jinyoung nodded. His chest warmed.

 

"Do you know?" Jinyoung asked. Jaebum turned around. "Do you know what you're looking for?"

 

Jaebum smiled. "Yes and no."

 

The answer was cryptic, but so was Jaebum. Jinyoung's brother was a strange thing; simultaneously straightforward yet somehow still mysterious; direct but hard to fully grasp. He supposed it was what allowed his brother to engage with so many people romantically, everyone warped in a quest to discover who he was. As they pulled into their street, Jinyoung remembered the welcoming sight of his parents.

 

"Don’t tell Mum and Dad about Jackson and I, yeah?" He asked. He was apprehensive; Jaebum's loyalty was constantly shifting.

 

Jaebum scoffed. "Of course." He opened the garage. "That goes without saying."

 

"Thanks." He thought about hooking his pinkie with Jaebum's, but Jinyoung was sixteen, not six.

 

 

 

 

The following Monday, Mark, Jinyoung and Jackson decided to head to the mall after school. The trio were in search of greasy fast-food, Jackson craving fried chicken. For the whole day, Mark seemed preoccupied by his phone – narrowly missing another girl and a pole as they caught the bus from school to the shopping centre. It wasn't unusual for Mark to be on his phone - he was a boy of headphones and loud music, scrolling down his feed on rainy Saturday afternoons whenever they hung out. But Jackson knew from the bite of Mark's lips that something on his phone pleased him greatly. Or perhaps, more specifically, _someone_.

 

Jackson snickered and nudged Jinyoung, leaning over in a conspiratorial way. Jinyoung looked over, then rolled his eyes.

 

Something that he'd always respected about Mark was his respect for privacy. Jinyoung thought he would do the same thing.

 

"You're so nosy," Jinyoung elbowed his friend.

 

Jackson feigned offence.

 

"Don't play Mr High and Mighty with me," he retorted. "I know you're just as curious."

 

Reluctantly, Jinyoung turned around. Mark was once again immersed by something on his phone, biting back a small smile that threatened to take over his face. He gulped. Curious was an understatement.

 

"Well," Jinyoung said, "I'm going to wait for him to tell us, because I'm a considerate friend."

 

Jackson scrunched his nose. "Considerate my ass. Don't think I've forgotten the time you tickled me into submission."

 

Jinyoung looked unconvinced. "For what?"

 

Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought as his friend looked on expectantly. As his frown deepened, the answer eluded him yet again.

 

"How would I know!" Jackson squawked. "I don't hold grudges - because I'm a good friend."

 

"Bullshit, you just don't remember anything."

 

"Don't remember," Jackson wiggled his eyebrows, "Or choose to forget?"

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, dismissing his friend with the turn of his head. He broke into a brisk walk, gaining distance between himself and Jackson as the latter proceeded to yell at him loudly, first in Korean, and then in Cantonese because he thought it was impossibly funny. The strange looks they got did nothing but add to the heat on Jinyoung's cheeks, his friend-slash-boyfriend screaming nonsense – now mixing English, Cantonese and Korean – demanding to no longer remain ignored.

 

"Yah! Park Jinyoung! Do you think you can ignore me like this?" Jackson was waving crazily, and it was out of self-consciousness that Jinyoung walked back. "Who do you think you are?"

 

"Clearly I don't think I own the mall," Jinyoung said dryly. "Honestly, do you think this is your house?"

 

Jackson looked up at him affectionately, blinking so aggressively that he almost hurt his eye.

 

"Everywhere is my home when I'm with you."

 

If Jinyoung could’ve rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve.

 

"You're so dumb," he declared.

 

"Oh," Jackson pretended to ponder. "But who fell in love with this dumb? Who's dating this dumb? Who fell in love with the very dumb standing in front of you? Who, Jinyoung, who?"

 

Jinyoung shook his head. His smile, sincere and unable to be suppressed, slowly spread across his face, his arms still folded.

 

"I hate you," he said without malice.

 

Jackson grinned, smashing their bodies together in a bone-crushing hug, one that seemed to embrace Jinyoung in his entirety, warming him from his inside out.

 

"I love you," Jackson mumbled into his neck.

 

And Jinyoung swore that this time, sunflowers were blooming in his heart.

 

 

 

 

Their hug was interrupted by a vibration in Jinyoung's pocket. Jackson was visibly offended.

 

"Why would he call _you_ first instead of me?!"

 

Jinyoung ignored him. "Mark?"

 

"Yeah," the familiar sound of his friend echoed at the receiver. "Where are you guys?"

 

Jinyoung frowned. "Um...just in front of you? Near Jackson's favourite dessert place."

 

"Oh." The sound of rustling followed, then a more confident, " _Oh_. Okay. I'll be there soon."

 

Mark hung up and Jackson was still looking hurt. "I can't believe _my Yien_ would call you, Park Jinyoung, over his fellow man."

 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure we're all male here."

 

"Perhaps," Jackson sighed dramatically. "But Mark and I have a special bond you don't understand. It's called being a foreigner, and I can't expect someone who has lived all his life in a country that he calls home to understand the foreigner bond, the bond of foreigners – the mutual feelings of isolation and apprehension that plague our nights and days as foreigners."

 

Jinyoung pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you always this dramatic,” he asked.

 

"The foreigner pact is one that I couldn't expect you to understand," Jackson continued nevertheless. "It's a friendship built on not only mutual interests, but mutual feelings - feelings of discrimination, of alienation, of hurt and lost and homesickness…"

 

When Mark finally reached them, Jackson turned his cry to his friend.

 

"Mark, honestly, I thought we were better than this. I thought we were stronger. What happened to the foreigner pact? What happened to us?"

 

Mark, like Jinyoung, rolled his eyes.

 

"Jinyoung was still in my recents."

 

"Still!" Jackson was adamant. "You should've called me. I'm on your favourites."

 

"Yeah," Mark retorted, "Because you made me. I don't even use my favourites."

 

Jackson clutched his heart, sighing.

 

"Oh Mark…" He shook his head in disbelief. He would've carried on, but Jinyoung stopped him quickly.

 

"Do you want fried chicken or not?"

 

Jackson's attention was averted, and the three quickly scampered to overhead menu, trying to determine an appropriate afternoon snack. While the two were arguing over getting a meal deal or separate orders, Mark sent over a quick text.

 

_Nearly lost my friends lol. Talk later?_

 

His phone buzzed almost instantaneously.

 

_from: JB_

_Yeah lol._

 

He grinned, pocketing his phone. It buzzed again, and Mark checked it once again.

 

_from: JB_

_Stay safe._

 

 

 

 

The night was dark and Mark was still high on the feeling of love when he swerved through the pedestrians, skateboard smooth against the concrete. He thought it might've been the cocktail Jaebum had bought him that was causing this weird euphoria, the warmth in his stomach that felt like home. That evening they'd gone to dinner at a Japanese restaurant. They had tucked themselves in a booth where no one could see them, conversation light and hearts full. Mark couldn't stop smiling as he remembered Jaebum’s smile, unconsciously licking his lips. He tasted chocolate - was it from their kiss or dessert? He couldn't remember.

 

All he could remember was the sound of Jaebum's laughter, casual conversation which had seemed to drift awkwardly at first, then effortlessly, as if they'd done so all their lives. Shared grins whenever one of them tried to be romantic, Jaebum's fingers tentative against his mouth as he wiped away food. The feeling of Jaebum’s fingers in his mouth. The lewd thoughts that had followed afterwards – Jaebum’s darkening gaze. The thought filled his head with a strange kind of bliss, a feeling that made him happy to be alive, happy to be there, in that very moment, having experienced such a gripping sort of happiness. A smile made a home on his face, turning his eyes into crescents, his body alight with weird feelings of affection.

 

The sound of Jackson's laughter broke him from his daze. Mark slowed to a stop, eyes blank as he caught sight of the familiar red banner, faded Chinese characters written in gold. Jackson walked out of a cosy wood building, eyes widening in surprise as he saw Mark. Neither of them had planned this.

 

Jackson's face broke out into a grin as Mark pretended to skate away.

 

"Hey! I saw you!" He tugged on his friend's backpack, crackling as Mark stumbled. "Don't pretend you didn't see me, you twerp."

 

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Big talk from a small boy."

 

Jackson squawked. "You're like a centimetre taller than me. Don’t play this game."

 

Nevertheless, Mark ended up dragging his skateboard along the footpath, Jackson's eyes brightening at the memory of the weird middle-aged couple that had struck conversation with him just today. He could never tell what Jackson would say - some days, he always said, were good, and other days were bad. That was how customer service was. Sometimes you loved people, other times you despised them. Jackson closed his eyes as a cool breeze flew past them.

 

"It's so nice to see people in love," he said. "Despite all hardships and issues, in the end, it's nice to see people passionately in love with each other."

 

Mark hummed in agreement. His mind fluttered to thoughts of Jaebum, imagining them in a quiet Chinese restaurant, the elder working, Mark in university – a warming possibility to entertain. He found himself smiling, and quickly he replaced his grin with a neutral look of content. If Jackson had noticed, he didn’t point it out. Instead he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it back under an old snapback.

 

"Is there someone you like?"

 

It was Jackson who had spoken. Obviously, it had to be. They both knew that for Jackson, the answer was yes.

 

Mark was apprehensive. To admit that there was would lead to lying, or an admission of the truth - neither of which he wanted. He chewed on his lip, considering his options. To deny it would be obvious, but that was lying as well. Mark wasn't a liar, especially not to Jackson, arguably his oldest and one of his closest friends. Besides, a part of him – a small part of his heart – didn't want to say no, to lie, to pretend his feelings didn't exist - a part of him wanted to admit the truth, to shout it out to the world, to have someone share and appreciate this giddy happiness of falling in love. But that was dangerous. Neither option seemed very attractive.

 

Instead, Mark evaded the question.

 

"Hey Jackson,” he said, “Why do you think people fall in love with people older than them?"

 

Jackson's eyes narrowed.

 

"Hey, I'm only four months older than Jinyoung - that's hardly an age gap."

 

Mark rolled his eyes.

 

"I wasn't talking about you." His expression softened, Jaebum's soft smile popping into his head. Mark bit back a smile. "I was just speaking generally. People in general."

 

Jackson's face, no longer accusing, morphed into a gentler expression. He looked thoughtful as they continued walking, trying to formulate an answer.

 

"I think that when you look at people older than you, you create this perception that they're more in control than you, because they have more experience and sometimes more maturity." Jackson said finally. "You see them and see this kind of clarity that you feel you lack, because they've gone through what you will go through, they're like a glimpse into the future. It’s like they have all the answers, because what looks daunting has already been conquered by them. Things like growing up, being sixteen, falling in and out of love – things you experience with age. I think we're drawn to people who complement us, who have what we seek, and we love people much older than us because they seem to have everything that we seek. Not because of character, but because of age."

 

"Hm," Mark replied. He considered this. "Then why do people fall in love with people younger than them?"

 

Jackson's lips seemed to curve up, then down once again. He was thinking.

 

"Maybe," he guessed, "They're looking for a chance to start over again."

 

They were silent for a moment, and then Jackson laughed.

 

"But what do I know?" He said. "I've never fallen in love with someone much younger than me."

 

Mark nodded.

 

"Maybe it's admiration," he mumbled. "Maybe they like the admiration they receive."

 

Jackson turned to him. He looked thoughtful.

 

"Yeah," he said seriously. "I think so."

 

They split ways at a junction, Jackson heading off home towards a small suburban neighbourhood. Mark still had a number of streets to pass. Meeting Jackson had made him take the longer route home, but he didn't mind. It gave him more time to think, think about Jaebum, think about Jackson and his words, think about everything he was feeling and how he had, at one point, felt none of this at all. Streetlights lit up the way back home, warm puddles of orange revealing love notes in the cement, promises for forever, obstructed occasionally by thick red spray paint. Perhaps some of their loves had not worked out. Mark did not judge.

 

Some things were not meant to last forever.

 

 

 

 

It was nearing three weeks. Three weeks of keeping secrets from his two best friends. Admittedly, the longer he seemed to keep the secret from Jinyoung and Jackson, the easier Mark found it. Soon it seemed almost natural, almost normal for Mark to kiss Jaebum before he hung out with Jinyoung and Jackson. It didn't seem morally wrong, or out of place, to becoming intimate with his best friend's brother. A part of him felt like he'd always kept this secret, that Jinyoung and Jackson's obliviousness was something that he always had. Soon, Mark found it was less of a secret and more of an unknown arrangement.

 

Jinyoung had invited them over on another Saturday night. Seven, he'd said, so Mark wasn't expected until ten. Jackson had been over there since four - Mark knew because Jackson had snapchatted him, yelling in caps that he should come before the day ended. They'd probably be snuggling before Mark arrived, having one of their little conversations, immersing themselves and no one else. If Mark was honest, at one point, he'd been jealous. Jinyoung and Jackson fit in like two pieces of the same puzzle, an interaction effortless both in jest and in seriousness. If soulmates were real, it'd be them. They were always on the same wavelength, always vibrating in sync, always understanding each other, effortlessly, simply, sincerely and with no other motives.

 

The world seemed so perfect for them. How lucky it was, Mark thought, for two people to fall in love with each other at the same time.

 

Now he stood at the porch of Jinyoung's house, texting Jaebum that he was outside. He waited for Jaebum to open the door. Mark and Jaebum weren't like Jinyoung and Jackson. They weren't two puzzle pieces, two kindred spirits - two friends falling in love. They were like paint swatches, colours trying to mix, find a balance, constantly uncertain, constantly adjusting, never at the same time, never in the same way. Mark wasn't sure how fast he was falling, but he was sure it wasn't at the same rate as Jaebum. The butterflies didn't leave his stomach as Jaebum opened the door, a soft smile on his face.

 

"Mark," he greeted.

 

They went upstairs. Softly, so that no one would know Mark was there. Did Jaebum feel this? This giddy feeling of a high school love, this strange surge of infatuation and affection - the childlike feelings of falling in love. Was Mark that small? That immature? That childlike? He felt small, pressed between Jaebum's body and the mattress, the door closed. Was he this young? Mark had never been that impulsive, never felt such an explosion of unhindered feeling. He'd never been very immature, never been so irresponsible with his own feelings. Jaebum's lips were on his as he gripped the grey sheets, pushing against the elder's body. Jaebum grinded against him and Mark bit his lip, suppressing a moan.

 

He needed to calm down, to go slower. He needed to regain his breath.

 

Jaebum's hands moved from Mark's neck to his pants, the latter pushing them away. Jaebum looked down at Mark, an eyebrow raised.

 

"Too fast," Mark breathed. He smiled. "Go slower."

 

Strangely incoherent, he followed the younger, deepening their kiss. Mark, Mark - Mark in his bed, Mark in his head, Mark on his knees, Mark going to sleep - all of his thoughts, usually structured, swam around Mark like a school of fish. He couldn't remember when this feeling had started rising, when it had seeded itself into his consciousness. He looked down at the boy beneath him, cheeks flushed and lips pink, trying to remember when he'd lost control.

 

"I like you," Mark said. He was panting. "I like you a lot."

 

Jaebum watched the younger bit his lip.

 

"I like you too." He leaned in. "Let me kiss you."

 

It was still not slow enough, but Mark was starting to realise that it would never be. Everything with Jaebum felt too fast. Even when they were walking Mark wanted to go slower, for things to feel slower, for everything to just pause and let him embrace the moment wholeheartedly. He wanted to savour the moment, Jaebum's mouth on his own, he wanted to possess the moment, capture the memory and bottle it in a mason jar, relive it every time he twisted open the cap. The smell of Jaebum's shower gel, the feeling on his own body against the elder's bed sheets - the sensations he wanted desperately to keep, but somehow couldn't.

 

His shirt was riding up, Jaebum’s hand crawling towards his chest. Mark pulled him closer once again. Again, he tried to savour the moment, and again he was left breathless. It came and it went, it passed too quickly, like he hadn’t just been standing outside Jinyoung and Jaebum’s house, like he hadn’t just texted Jaebum, walked up the stairs, laughed on Jaebum’s bed, the latter sitting next to him. He was struggling to catch his breath.

 

The present was too fast, and then in a moment, it became too slow.

 

"Mark? Hyung?"

 

Jaebum stopped kissing him. Mark felt his body freeze, both boys turning to the doorway.

 

Standing there, in black sweatpants and a matching hoodie was Jackson, his face twisted in confusion, voice hesitant and hoarse. His eyes were focused on the two, stare making them feel like deer caught in headlights. For a few seconds, no one said anything. The three continued staring, the moment processing in their heads, silence almost unnoticed. Previously, Mark had found that the seconds pass too quickly, however in this moment they felt like hours, agonising amounts of time filled with a deep sense of guilt that he couldn’t quite name. Jaebum and Jackson seemed to be feeling the same.

 

Both boys seemed focused on Jackson, but at the same time they weren’t, somehow close yet distant. Padded footsteps made their way towards Jaebum's door, immediately snapping the elder out of his trance. Abruptly, he moved off of Mark, standing awkwardly near his desk as Jinyoung peaked through the doorway.

 

He too froze, and Mark was certain that he could map out the exact moment that his friend’s face fell, eyes suddenly more wounded than anyone had anticipated. Mark had to avert his own, suddenly downcast as he stared at Jaebum’s grey bedsheets.

 

Jinyoung's eyes darted from Mark to Jaebum, quickly piecing together the puzzle. A part of him remembered the first morning he’d seen Mark in his house, the tiny suspicion that he’d forgotten in favour of falling in love. His eyes softened, and for once, he couldn't name the lump rising in his throat.

 

"Hyung," he said. His voice was shaky, soft as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

 

It didn’t matter, for Jinyoung’s voice was soon muffled by the sound of Jackson's scream. In the moment it had taken for Jinyoung to gauge the situation, Jackson had regained himself.

 

"Don't you _ever_ touch Mark again," Jackson hissed. Abruptly, as if he'd remembered how to use his legs, Jackson strode across the room, swiftly grabbing his friend and pulling him up. Mark himself seemed frozen, his body unresponsive as he allowed Jackson to drag him out. Jackson was muttering profanities as he left, his grip so tight around Mark’s wrist that it created red marks.

 

It left only Jinyoung and Jaebum. For a few moments, they were lost for words, facing each other with eyes focused on anywhere but each other. Jaebum coughed to cover the silence.

 

Jinyoung couldn't explain what he was feeling. His mouth felt dry, eyes still drifting from Jaebum to his crumpled bedsheets, trying to remember how his friend had once been on that bed, once been in _his brother’s bed_. His brother had been kissing his friend. His brother, of all people, had been kissing one of his best friends. Jinyoung could hardly believe it – could hardly understand it, even though it had occurred right in front of him. He looked up bleakly, meeting his brother's gaze. Jaebum didn't look guilty. He didn't look ashamed either. He simply stared blankly. Jinyoung licked his lips.

 

"He's my age," Jinyoung said slowly. "You understand that, right?"

 

Jaebum stared at him. "Do you think I don't?"

 

"He's just a kid."

 

"Are you calling yourself a kid?"

 

Jinyoung pursed his lips. "You see me as one," he dared, "Don't you?"

 

Jaebum shifted. They rarely fought, but when they did they pulled out all the knives. They were good at this, the two of them - finding words that cut the deepest.

 

Jinyoung was winning.

 

He stared at his brother, trying to predict what would happen next. Jaebum’s face remained inexpressive, his thoughts the enigma they always seemed to be. Once again, Jinyoung found himself unable to understand his brother’s mind. His only clue was the furrowing of his brother’s eyebrows. Suddenly, though too late, he realised that his brother was shutting the door.

 

"I don't have to discuss my love life with you," Jaebum said. He turned away dismissively, ending their conversation.

 

Jinyoung could feel the feelings welling up, the accusations and betrayal and confusion all rising like tidal waves. He had all these feelings, and nowhere to place them. When his brother decided to pick out a book from his shelf – a blatant indication that their discussion was over – Jinyoung stomped out, slamming the door for extra measure. It was the only thing he could do.

 

Back in his room, Jackson was interrogating Mark.

 

"Did he blackmail you?" Jackson asked. Mark was sitting on Jinyoung’s bed, eyes blank and unyielding – a frightening reflection of Jinyoung’s older brother. Jinyoung pretended that he couldn’t see the resemblance. "Did he touch you? Oh why would I ask something so stupid - of course he did. What else did he do? Did he dress you up? Did he take photos? Did he assault you? God dammit, I'm going to fucking _kill_ him."

 

Mark didn't reply. He looked up at Jackson, waiting for the other to finish his rant. He had asked a question, but they all knew that Jackson would not wait for an answer. As Jackson continued to explode, Jinyoung stared at his best friend, struggling to acknowledge what had just happened. What he had seen. Mark, his best friend, had been kissing Jaebum, his older brother. Jinyoung could barely understand it, barely grasp the situation let alone understand how he himself felt. All he could do was stare at his friend, stare helplessly, hoping that Mark's eyes would meet his and provide answers.

 

"He didn't do anything," Mark said when Jackson had taken in a gulp of air. Sometimes, Jackson forgot to breathe. "He didn't do anything that I didn't want."

 

If Jackson exploded, Jinyoung imploded, his heart and body combusting into flames. They said spontaneous human combustion was improbable but not unheard of, and at that moment, Jinyoung thought that this was how it would feel. He looked up to his friend's eyes, watching as Mark's glance shifted from Jackson to Jinyoung. His gaze was unwavering, unapologetic in a way that reminded Jinyoung too harshly of his brother.

 

"When did this start?" Jinyoung asked. His voice was soft, and Jackson stilled. "When did you two start dating?"

 

Mark chewed on his lip.

 

"We're not dating," he said.

 

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow.

 

"Whatever you're doing.” It didn’t matter. “When did it start?"

 

Mark's fingers curled around Jinyoung's sheets, and he tried to remove the thought of his best friend clutching _someone else_ 's sheets. His body was starting to burn.

 

"Maybe…" Mark looked thoughtful. "Maybe a month? A few weeks? Not very long."

 

"How?” It was Jackson who spoke this time. He had regained himself. “How did it happen?"

 

Mark shrugged.

 

"I don't know…" The words died in his throat, but neither Jackson nor Jinyoung would let him get away with a loss of thought. "It was...maybe, that day - the day Jaebum-hyung drove us home? It happened the day before. I don't know, he let me in, and then I was going to find you guys-"

 

"And why didn't you?" Jackson demanded.

 

"I was going to," Mark pressed. "I was going to, and then I saw you two in Jinyoung's room. Hands entwined, smiling, head on each other's shoulders - what did you want me to do? Barge in and ruin your moment? Interrupt whatever you had going on? Third-wheel?"

 

"I want you to not sleep with my brother," Jinyoung said. Mark pretended that it didn't hurt.

 

"So I went into Jaebum-hyung's room. It wasn't anything romantic," he racked his brain, remembering the first time. There were some things that he didn't want to mention. "I was just going to hang there until you two were done, maybe give you a few minutes, then I'd call you and tell you I was coming over, so you could wrap it all up. But then…"

 

"But then?" Jackson leaned forward.

 

"But then hyung and I…"

 

His tone was too accusing. "Then you and him _what_?"

 

They were going too far. Jinyoung knew it, and Jackson probably did, deep down, but he couldn't always control what he did. Mark was an open book, and then, without warning, he was shut. He closed the door and threw away the key, leaving them curious but unsatisfied, left to wallow in possibilities and never truths. His lips clamped shut, his eyes, previously unwavering and soft, now seemed like steel, unyielding and without compromise. Mark was like that. He was all or nothing, honest or silent. They'd prodded too far too fast and in retaliation he'd closed the doors, shut the blinds and left them outside. Jinyoung knew that Jackson knew where they were at with their best friend. They were so close that he could not only understand his friend's expressions, but he could also predict what they would understand.

 

Mark’s lips were pressed into a thin line. Somehow, this made Jackson angrier.

 

"What are you doing Mark?" The door was closed, and Jackson knew, but still he continued. If there was one thing Jinyoung and Jackson shared, it was the uncanny ability to stab people where it hurt the most. "Are you playing Lolita with your best friend's brother? Who do you think you are? He's just using you. As if Jaebum-hyung has anything to talk about with someone still in high school.”

 

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed, but Jackson kept on talking.

 

“You must think you’re so special,” he spat. “I bet Jaebum-hyung tells you how amazing and mature you are for your age, coddles you like a little baby. You think you’re his one and only? You must be delusional. He’s probably sleeping with girls and boys left, right and centre – he’s always done that, right? We would all know. We all know him. You think you’re the only thing his mouth touches – don’t kid yourself. He’s probably fucking other boys on all the days you don’t meet up.”

 

Jackson’s gaze was like iron, but his tongue was like fire.

 

“You must think you’re so mature, dating a university boy while all of us high schoolers play in our sandpit,” Jackson snapped, “Well guess what, there’s nothing mature about dating a university boy because you can’t fucking get with someone your own age. Grow up, Mark. Get your head out of your ass and think about what the fuck Jaebum-hyung would ever see in a little boy like you.”  

 

Mark was unyielding, but he was not indestructible. The flicker in his eyes, no matter how short-lived, was meaningful, and Jinyoung was silent as he watched his best friend frown. Jackson was panting, his energy focused on the situation at hand.

 

They didn't talk for what felt like hours. Jinyoung felt their agonising silence weighing down on him like bricks, Mark's gaze suddenly focused on the corner of his door and Jackson's on his bed-frame. It was only thirty seconds until Mark spoke, but to the three, it felt like centuries.

 

"I'm going home." His voice was soft but certain. Jinyoung could feel the guilt that would consume him later. No one stopped Mark as he left Jinyoung's room, stomping down the stairs as he closed the door with a slam. Jaebum would know what had happened. Everyone in the neighbourhood would probably know.

 

Jinyoung held his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. Jackson was still angry.

 

"You shouldn't have said that," Jinyoung told Jackson.

 

The latter growled.

 

"What? It's true."

 

"You said that to hurt him."

 

Jackson glared. "Don't you act like you wouldn't," he said. "If I hadn't said anything, you would've cut him with your own snide remarks. Don't act so condescending."

 

Jinyoung thought Jackson was his soulmate, his friend vibrating on the same plane, thoughts in sync in the most romantic, unlikely way. Sometimes he forgot that, like himself, Jackson could tear down armies with his words.

 

 

 

 

Jackson stayed the night, even though between the two of them, they knew it wasn't the best idea. Sharing Jinyoung's queen-sized bed allowed them to move off to separate sides, immersed in their own thoughts. Jackson, for all his boisterous energy and charm, could be surprisingly introspective when he wanted to. Jinyoung appreciated this. And at that very moment, he didn't want to talk to Jackson. All he wanted to do was lie in his bed and sleep.

 

No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to remove the image from his head – his brother and his best friend, sharing a bed, getting intimate with each other. It made his body shudder. Worlds didn’t collide like this. People didn’t act out in this way. Jaebum was his brother, Jaebum belonged in their house and occasionally university and wherever he walked but he didn’t belong in Mark’s arms, didn’t belong with Mark unless Jackson and Jinyoung were there and they were all together. Mark was his best friend. Mark belonged in his own house and occasionally Jinyoung’s and very often with his skateboard, but he was never allowed to be in Jaebum’s room, never allowed to be alone with Jaebum. Jaebum shouldn’t have seen Mark as anything more than a brother. Mark should’ve seen Jaebum as nothing more than an extension of Jinyoung’s life.

 

He was floored. How had this happened?

 

The morning did nothing to soothe his thoughts. Harsh midday light flooded into Jinyoung’s bedroom, forcing the two awake. Their discovery of Jaebum and Mark’s relationship had made them revert back to the old Jackson and Jinyoung, the boys who were friends and not boyfriends, people intimate only due to their familiarity. Jinyoung didn’t have time to let his heart flutter at the thought of Jackson in-between his sheets. Jackson didn’t seem to either. The two walked down carpet stairs wordlessly and found Jaebum in the kitchen. He wore a loose tank top and sweatpants, pouring milk into a chipped bowl.

 

It was Jackson who spoke first.

 

“Not trying to fuck any little kids?” He sneered. “Perverts Anonymous says that the playground across here’s a good place to start.”

 

Jaebum rolled his eyes. He turned back to his breakfast, Jackson eyeing him as he grabbed an apple from the kitchen bench.

 

“Or do they scream too much?” Jackson asked. “Maybe you like grooming boys who think you’re what they want. Show them how cool and mature you are and how special they are since such a big boy is taking interest in their dicks.”

 

Jaebum turned around.

 

“Jackson,” he warned.

 

“What?” Jackson taunted. “Can’t take the heat?”

 

Jinyoung wasn’t sure how, but in a matter of seconds they were face-to-face, chests almost touching as Jackson glared at the elder, his eyes defiant and daring. Jaebum didn’t stand down, his expression equally as harsh. Jinyoung knew his brother, and he knew his boyfriend.

 

“Should’ve thought of that before you started fucking a kid,” Jackson sneered. Jaebum was leaning in, ready to grab the younger, when Jinyoung’s voice rose amongst them.

 

“ _Guys_ ,” he said. It broke their trance. The two turned to him, still within centimetres of each other.

 

Jinyoung sighed.

 

“Jackson,” he said, “I think it’s time for you to go.”

 

Jackson stepped back. It made Jinyoung feel relieved, but only momentarily.

 

“Going to drive me home, _hyung_?” Jackson asked. “Oh wait, I forgot – I’m not lending you my ass, am I?”

 

Jaebum growled and Jinyoung closed his eyes. Jackson, satisfied with his last jeer, took off. Like Mark, he slammed the door behind him.

 

Then it was only Jaebum and Jinyoung.

 

Their kitchen – unaltered since Jaebum had been born – suddenly felt foreign, somehow both larger and smaller than the two of them could bear. When Jinyoung was seven and Jaebum was thirteen they would chase each other around the house, running circles in their kitchen. They’d slip sometimes – socks on tiles were never a good idea – but young boys were made of rubber and they bounced back just as fast as they fell. Now, they stood silently. Jinyoung’s hands clutched the back of the chair, fingers curling around the material as Jaebum reached out to grab his bowl. The only sound existing between the two of them was the sound of Jaebum rummaging for a spoon from the drawer.

 

“What are you trying to do?” Jinyoung asked quietly.

 

He let his face betray his thoughts; creases forming at his forehead as he looked back at his brother pitifully, eyes tired and sleep-deprived. He tilted his head, trying to gauge his older brother’s next response.

 

Jaebum was no novice.

 

“What do you mean?” He said flatly. He lifted a spoon of cereal into his mouth. They both knew what he meant.

 

Jinyoung controlled his voice.

 

“Why are you dating Mark?” He shot.

 

The answer was simple enough. “Because I like him.”

 

“What do you like about him?” He asked.

 

His brother frowned.

 

“Why are you so curious?”

 

“Because he’s my best friend.” Jinyoung narrowed his eyes. “Why can’t you give me a coherent answer?”

 

Jaebum dropped his bowl on the counter, the ceramic making a _clang_ against the marble top. Unlike Jinyoung, his feelings did not appear explicitly on his face.

 

“It’s none of your business,” he said curtly.

 

“It’s _all of my business_!” Jinyoung shot back. “It’s all of my fucking business. You’re my brother, and Mark’s my best friend. How is this _not_ my business? What happens when you two break up, huh hyung? What happens to the two of you then? He isn’t some random one-night-stand we can just remove from our lives, you can’t just _pretend_ he was never in your bed. Do I have to stop inviting him over, hyung? Do we have to stop being friends, because I’m a living reminder of his fuck-up of an ex-boyfriend? Do you ever think about the consequences of your actions? Do you ever fucking _think?_ ”

 

Jaebum’s eyes narrowed. His tone was harsh and a low.

 

“Don’t you use that tone with me,” he warned.

 

Jinyoung scowled. Jaebum had always had a lot of authority as his older brother – he had always used it sensibly, and Jinyoung had never seen a need to refute him – but today, things were different. He stared back in defiance.

 

“You’re no better,” Jaebum growled. “You think your little charade with Jackson will end any smoother? What happens to your little trio when the two of you realise that romance isn’t what you want? Are you just going to destroy this valued friendship you have because the two of you can’t keep it in your pants?”

 

“I’m not like you,” Jinyoung shot back. “I don’t treat other people’s feelings as a game.”

 

“You think I do?” Jaebum asked.

 

Jinyoung let out a sharp bark of laughter.

 

“You tell that to all the girls and guys who have passed by our house,” he said, incredulous. “You go ask them, ‘do you think I took your feelings and affections as a game?’”

 

Jaebum’s eyes narrowed into slits. Jinyoung didn’t think that they could become any smaller. His brother’s jaw clenched.

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said dismissively. “You don’t understand how relationships work. You think every relationship you enter will be fulfilling and meaningful? You’re wasting your breath. I let people know my intentions. I don’t engage anyone in anything they’re not aware of.”

 

“So does Mark know you’re going to dispose of him once you’re done?” Jinyoung snapped.

 

His older brother’s expression darkened.

 

“That’s not how I see Mark.”

 

“Then how _do_ you see him?” Jinyoung asked. His voice raised an octave as he got angrier. “Because he was meant to be my best friend. Is Mark a game? Is Mark some drunk mistake you made?”

 

Jaebum slammed his fist on the table, but Jinyoung did not care.

 

“You never should’ve _touched_ Mark,” Jinyoung jabbed a finger towards his brother, undeterred by the latter’s dangerous expression. “Because everything you do now doesn’t just affect you, it affects me and it affects Jackson and it affects Mark and how things are. If you could keep it in your pants for _once in your fucking life_ , I wouldn’t have to watch my friendships dangle on fraying thread. So thanks, _hyung_.”

 

He stomped off back to his room, breakfast abandoned because he was stubborn and Jaebum was still downstairs. Jinyoung found a muesli bar that Jackson had left at his house, and ate it even though he hated the taste.

 

 

 

 

Every morning, Jackson took the bus to school. He took the same bus as Jinyoung, and without any arrangement they’d fallen into the pattern of catching the 8:52 bus to school. Jackson would get on first, choosing a cosy seat near the back and falling asleep against the glass until Jinyoung got on and woke him up. Then, they would either talk, or fall asleep on top of each other until the bus made it to school.

 

The following Monday morning, Jackson felt a dull ache at the back of his head. His stomach was unsettled, but he hadn’t eaten anything but toast that morning.

 

He couldn’t fall asleep that morning. His eyes still felt tired, but every time he tried to sleep, his mind refused to relax. Instead it stiffened, a nagging feeling intruding on his sleep. Jackson couldn’t shake the feeling off, no matter how hard he tried. And when he tried to ignore it, his mind went back to Saturday night.

 

Mark and Jaebum – the thought left his tongue with a bitter feeling. He felt weird. That was the word he was looking for – weird. It didn’t feel right, like a puzzle piece forced into a lock. He leaned against the cool glass, pretending to be asleep as he felt the dip of someone sitting next to him.

 

Jinyoung.

 

Jackson didn’t fully know where Jinyoung stood on Mark and Jaebum’s relationship. It had, after all, been Jinyoung who had reined him in, who had stopped him when Jackson was going off at the two. Did Jinyoung feel the same way about Mark and Jaebum as Jackson did? He knew it was likely, but not definite. He couldn’t be sure, and that space of uncertainty was enough to scare him. He felt the warmth of Jinyoung, probably tucked in his jumper and blazer, and desperately he wanted to lean in, rest his head on his friend’s shoulders. But he didn’t.

 

Instead it was Jinyoung whose hand first found his.

 

The warmth of the former’s fingers was enough for Jackson to shoot up.

 

“I’m sorry, you know, for Saturday, and Sunday…for being really rude and inappropriate,” he trailed off, following his thoughts until they led him back, “It’s just that I was so angry, and hurt, and I didn’t really think about what I was saying and I think I might’ve taken it too far but I was just so angry, you know? And what he did – what Jaebum-hyung did – isn’t right and Mark’s reaction isn’t right either and I don’t know how you feel and I don’t know if I’m right but I just feel like they were both in the wrong and Jaebum-hyung should be more mature and Mark shouldn’t be so reckless and dumb and, oh, I don’t know…”

 

Jinyoung squeezed his hand.

 

“I know what you mean,” he said. He shivered, and Jackson’s heart lifted. “It’s just not…right. They shouldn’t date, because you know how Jaebum-hyung is, and if Mark gets hurt, I don’t know what will happen to us…”

 

Jinyoung smiled apologetically.

 

“I just had to stop you, yesterday morning, because I didn’t want you fighting with Jaebum-hyung. You know how he is.”

 

“A short fuse,” Jackson said. Jinyoung smiled.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They held each other’s gaze, smiles soft and gentle. They were lucky, Jackson knew, to always understand each other, to always be on the same page. People didn’t often feel like this, he knew. People didn’t always get a chance to connect to others the way he connected with Jinyoung. A wave of relief and joy filled his heart, and he had to bite his lip to suppress the grin slowly spreading across his face. He didn’t have to suppress it for long.

 

“I just don’t get why Mark didn’t tell us,” Jinyoung mused. And Jackson’s face fell.

 

The concern he’d momentarily forgotten rose once again, and Jackson could feel Jinyoung’s hand curling around his. He felt like his being was retreating further into his body.

 

The dilemma of Mark made Jackson shift. The betrayal hit him again, and it had been just as harsh as it was the first time.

 

“I don’t know either,” Jackson admitted. “I thought we were his friends.”

 

“He should’ve told us,” Jinyoung said adamantly. “He should’ve told us. We wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d told us. We could’ve stopped them.”

 

“Jaebum’s not right for him,” Jackson agreed. “Jaebum and Mark are not right for all of us.”

 

When they got to school, it had been decided between themselves that it was Mark and Jaebum who had been in the wrong. They were the ones who had dated behind their backs, they were the ones rocking the boat – Jaebum was dating _a minor_ – what business did he have with a high school boy? When Jinyoung got off the bus, he noticed that Mark was not waiting for them at the gates as he usually did.

 

Jackson noticed, but he didn’t say a word.

 

 

 

 

It was impossible for the trio to completely ignore each other. Jinyoung, Jackson and Mark were practically attached by the hip – they had been since they were ten and no matter where they went, or who they spoke to, they always seemed to find their way back to one another. At lunch, when Mark went to sit with Yugyeom, Youngjae and Bambam waved Jackson over.

 

Mark, Jinyoung and Jackson were a package deal, it appeared.

 

Reluctantly, Jackson moved over towards the four, noting the way Mark’s eyes looked down, refusing to meet his own. If any of their underclassmen noticed, they didn’t mention it.

 

“Where’s Jinyoung?” Bambam asked.

 

Mark didn’t reply. Jackson shrugged.

 

“He might be stuck in biology.”

 

 Yugyeom frowned, biting into a nectarine. His face continued to sour.

 

“Try this,” he handed the fruit towards Bambam. The latter took a bite into it, his expression mimicking Yugyeom’s.

 

In any other situation, Jackson would’ve laughed and called them dumb and dumber, narrowly avoiding Yugyeom’s sharp fingers. But instead he just felt stiff, Mark’s eyes focused on anything and everything that wasn’t Jackson. No one pointed out the fact that Mark and Jackson had sat as far away from each other as they could.

 

Jackson bit into his apple. On the other side of the table, Youngjae was leaning over to show Mark a photo of his dog.

 

Mark smiled.

 

“Cute,” he said, “When did you take this?”

 

“Over the weekend,” Youngjae explained. “We found this really good dog park about a fifteen minute walk from my house. It’s great! All the dogs love Coco.”

 

Mark’s smile widened. Jackson pretended that he wasn’t staring at his friend.

 

“That’s good – how is Coco?”

 

“She’s great! Misses you,” Youngjae smiled. He threw a cheeky grin to his friends. “Loves you more than Yugyeom and Bambam, at least.”

 

“She _bit_ my ass!” Bambam cried.

 

Youngjae ignored him. “You should come over and see her today.”

 

Mark stiffened. His eyes nervously met Jackson’s – a moment too short for Jackson to react – before they flickered back to Youngjae.

 

“I can’t today…” he began. He was going to continue, but Jinyoung’s entrance disrupted him. Yugyeom and Bambam were on high alert.

 

“You’re looking ugly today.” Yugyeom’s quip was quick and sly, his resolve dissolving into a fit of giggles as he attempted to avoid Jinyoung’s hand.

 

“I will end you,” Jinyoung told him, “And everyone you love.”

 

They moved away from Mark’s plans and towards unfunny jokes and baseless insults, Yugyeom’s laughter reverberating through the cafeteria as he had another go at his friend. At the back of his mind, Jackson was preoccupied by the thought of the upcoming afternoon. It didn’t take a detective to know where Mark was heading afterwards. Mark and Jaebum, Jaebum and Mark – the thought made Jackson’s stomach churn, his heart suddenly out of place, uncomfortable in his own skin. Momentary he thought about Jaebum’s lips on Mark’s neck and he winced at the imagery.

 

It all felt wrong.

 

 

 

 

Jinyoung could not avoid Mark forever. They shared far too many classes with each other, and while seating wasn’t permanent, there was an unspoken rule in every class that where you sat on day one was be where you sat for the rest of the year. In history, Jinyoung fingered the back of his chair, hands curling as he tried to decide whether he would sit or move.

 

Mark was already seated, headphones covering his ears as he looked out the window, pretending to ignore Jinyoung.

 

Mark and Jinyoung didn’t fight. At the very least, they didn’t fight like this. They didn’t ignore each other – they never did – they were moody, and they argued, but in the end they always came back. They always resumed their friendship just as quickly as they’d lost it. One of them would always tap the other on the shoulder, apologise, and they’d be back to where they started. His fingers drummed on the back of the seat.

 

When a classmate cleared her throat, Jinyoung realised he was blocking traffic and hurried into his seat.

 

Mark snuck a glance at his friend, watching Jinyoung unpack his books and stationary. He chewed on his lip. It had only been a bit more than a day, but he was already missing Jackson and Jinyoung. His whole stomach was churning – everything felt wrong without the two of them, joking around, joking with him – he didn’t remember the last time he’d been at school without either of them by his side. With hesitant hands, Mark stopped his music and removed his headphones.

 

“Hey,” he said softly.

 

Jinyoung turned. His face broke out into relief, staring at his friend.

 

“Hey,” he replied.

 

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They looked at each other expectantly, both waiting for the other to continue.

 

Eventually, it was Mark who spoke.

 

“Look, about Saturday night…”

 

He trailed off, a sense of uncertainty clear from his gaze. Jinyoung smiled at him encouragingly.

 

“I was going to tell you guys,” he said. “I really was. I was – we were, I mean – just waiting for the right moment. For when we knew it was serious…”

 

Jinyoung’s smile faltered for a second.

 

“And is it?” He asked.

 

Mark smiled. “I think it is,” he said. “I really like him. And he said he really likes me. I think it’s going well.”

 

Jinyoung’s tone was harder than he anticipated. He was not in control of himself. “You know he’s older than us, right? You’re a minor.”

 

“I won’t be in two months,” Mark said.

 

“But right now, you are.” Jinyoung could feel a harshness slipping into his voice. “You know it’s illegal for someone like Jaebum-hyung to engage in sexual activity with a minor.”

 

Mark’s expression was changing. He was coming to this realisation: Jinyoung was not on his side.

 

“It’s not about that,” Mark said slowly. “I really like him. And he said that he’s serious about dating me. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

 

“You can’t date my brother,” Jinyoung snapped. 

 

Mark and Jinyoung never fought, never like this. Defiance flashed by Mark’s eyes.

 

“You can’t decide that,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t date.”

 

“I can when it’s my fucking _brother_ ,” Jinyoung snarled. A few faces turned around, surprised by his tone. He lowered his voice. “You can’t date my brother.”

 

“Why not?” Mark asked.

 

“Because he’s my brother!” Jinyoung cried. “And you’re my best friend.”

 

His expression darkened.

 

“Choose.” Jinyoung said.

 

Mark looked confused. “What?”

 

“I said choose,” Jinyoung repeated. “You have to choose. Jaebum-hyung or me. Him or us.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Mark said.

 

“You can’t have both. You have to make a decision. It’s him, or it’s us.”

 

A mixture of emotions crossed Mark’s face, each more hurtful than the next. Jinyoung maintained his stare, eyes defiant and harsh.

 

“You can’t make me choose,” Mark said, incredulous.

 

“I can,” Jinyoung insisted. “You have to choose, Mark. You can’t have both.”

 

“What do you mean, I can’t have both?”

 

“You can’t have all of us,” Jinyoung hissed. “You have to make a decision. It’s hyung, or it’s us.”

 

Mark was dumbfounded. He blinked, staring at his friend, unable to comprehend how they’d reached this conclusion. Jinyoung met his gaze evenly. The former was not joking around.

 

“You can’t make me choose,” Mark repeated.

 

Jinyoung turned away.

 

“Then you’ve already decided.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooft if it was not clear i love edge of 17 and i'm also australian. pls leave my funky spelling alone.
> 
> but thank you for all your comments!!! you guys all warm my heart and make me all smiley and happy AHAHAHA thank you so much!!


	3. don't be greedy

When Jackson was thirteen, Jaebum was eighteen and in his final year of high school. When Jackson was thirteen, he was full of energy and charm and he drew people towards him like moths to the light. Like any self-conscious thirteen-year-old, he wanted desperately to seem cool and popular like all the older kids. So when he was invited to a party by a senior, he didn’t think twice, bringing himself to the door of an upperclassman’s house in baggy pants and a jersey shirt.

 

Jackson was getting along with everyone, introducing himself confidently and watching them fawn over how cute he was, how his energy seemed to bounce off the walls and into their hearts, unrelenting, unstoppable. The music was reverberating through the house; bass like the thumping of his heart, and when he turned around – mouth trying to swallow the bitter taste of alcohol – he saw Jaebum in the corner, a pretty girl leaning over his frame. Her fingers were drumming against his thigh, moving dangerously close as his hand threaded through her hair. Jackson didn’t realise it immediately, but soon he was staring.

 

His stomach twisted, and suddenly he was too small in a house where he’d been shining. Jaebum was Jinyoung’s brother, a figure only known through his interactions in Jinyoung’s house, an entity completely separate to here. He felt like his worlds were colliding, an overlap he hadn’t anticipated. As they kissed, Jackson found his eyes meeting Jaebum’s. He couldn’t read the expression on the elder’s face.

 

Later on in the night, when Jackson started to lose clarity, he could smell the sweet scent of flowers and honey. It got closer and lips pressed against his. They tasted like artificial strawberries. Jackson couldn’t remember much, but sharp eyes seemed to meet his once again. Jaebum was the one staring this time, and his expression had been just as unreadable as the situation itself.

 

 

 

 

When Jaebum picked up Mark, the younger had had his lips pursed, silently entering the car with a polite nod of his head. He kicked his bag under the glove compartment as he settled into his seat, eyes unyielding. Jaebum had not asked, and started driving.

 

It was a thirty minute drive to the cinemas. There was a cinema much closer – one within ten minutes of their homes and fifteen from the school – but the fear of being discovered by any of Mark’s classmates and Jaebum’s friends made them wary to choose said location. They knew what kind of questions would follow – where’s Jinyoung, where’s Jackson, why are you two going to the movies without them – questions which would make them flustered and bashful and reveal too much about their private lives and the inconvenient situation that had arose. It was a situation that both wanted to avoid as much as possible.

 

Mark was sitting quietly; chin resting on his palm as he stared out the window. His headphones hung around his neck, phone face down in his lap – a strange sight for the younger. From his reflection, Jaebum could see that his face was blank. It was as if he’d retreated even further into his body.

 

“What happened?” Jaebum asked.

 

Mark’s eyes moved from the window to his best friend’s brother. Jaebum’s eyes did not leave the road. Mark blinked slowly.

 

“Nothing,” he murmured.

 

They were approaching a turn.

 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jaebum said.

 

Mark hummed. The elder knew better than to pry. He turned up the radio and they drove in silence, passing by heavily populated food shops and Jaebum’s university. Mark chewed on his lip as they passed, remembering the obvious gap between them – his friends had been right, after all – Jaebum could’ve dropped him at any time. He could find a more mature university student – someone on Jaebum’s level – and they could love and Mark would be left alone. His heart ached at the thought, but he didn’t act upon it. Instead he continued staring out the window, watching them drive into the carpark. Jaebum kept the ticket between his teeth as he looked for parking.

 

“If something’s bothering you,” he said to Mark, “You should tell me. I’m your boyfriend, not your driver.”

 

Mark bit his lip, his eyes curving. His heart was pounding. “What did you just say?”

 

“I’m not your driver,” Jaebum repeated. “You don’t pay me to drive you to the movies.”

 

“No,” Mark was, despite himself, smiling, “What you said just before that.”

 

“You need to tell me how you feel.”

 

“No, after that.”

 

“Oh.” Jaebum averted his eyes, suddenly more like a high schooler than a twenty-two year old man. “I’m your boyfriend.”

 

Mark laughed.

 

“I really like the sound of that.”

 

Jaebum rolled his eyes.

 

Mark pushed aside his own fears, racing to the counter to buy tickets and popcorn. Jaebum had intended to treat him, but Mark was adamant about paying. It was during the line, obstructed by a group of high schoolers from an unrecognisable school, that he remembered the conversation that he’d had with Jinyoung. He couldn’t stop his face from falling, smile replaced by a smaller, sadder frown. He turned around, Jaebum still walking towards him, and immediately he turned away. He tried to fix his face, settling on a small smile.

 

He felt the warmth of someone squeezing his shoulder.

 

“What’s bothering you?”

 

Jaebum’s voice was warm and soft, like a murmur into his ear. Mark wanted to lean in to him, to curl up by his side and stay there until they’d solved everything and created their happy ending. But he didn’t. Because he knew that Jaebum wasn’t his boyfriend because he was childlike and emotional and like a school boy falling in love – Jaebum liked him because he was easy and emotionally stable and didn’t have all the baggage and angst that came with liking a teenager. So he pressed his lips together and stiffened.

 

“Nothing,” he said.

 

Jaebum leaned in, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

 

“Liar.”

 

Mark thought his words were more seductive than they should’ve been. He didn’t have to answer, however, when one of the counters freed up. Mark went to buy their tickets, Jaebum following him warily.

 

“We should be quick,” he told Jaebum, taking the two tickets and shoving them into his pocket. “I want to get a frappe before it starts.”

 

Jaebum frowned. Mark didn’t wait and headed out of the cinema, moving towards the food court just outside. He was just about to leave the cinema when the elder spoke.

 

“Is my brother bothering you?” Jaebum asked.

 

The simple phrase made Mark’s whole body shut down. He froze in his place, all thought and concern drained from his face as he stared blankly ahead at the food court, unable to even turn around and meet Jaebum’s eyes. His stomach began to churn – suddenly, he had lost all appetite, all thought. His mind stopped working and Mark swore that waves were crashing in his body, storms brewing in between his bones.

 

“It’s nothing,” Mark said softly. He tried to suppress his feelings, voice sounding foreign even to himself. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

 

Mark could hear Jaebum getting closer, and again his body stiffened.

 

“Clearly it isn’t.” Jaebum’s hands were on his shoulders, his body pressed up against Mark’s. His breath hitched, and desperately he wanted to lean back and have Jaebum catch him. “What’s wrong?”

 

Mark bit his lip. He felt like he was being tested. Tell Jaebum and allow the other to fall out of love with him, or keep his concerns a secret and watch Jaebum’s face fall. The elder’s hands dropped from his shoulders to his waist.

 

“Don’t trust me, Mark?”

 

His tone was mild, giving away nothing of how he felt. Mark was quick to answer.

 

“No,” he said abruptly. He turned around, watching Jaebum raise an eyebrow. Expectantly, waiting for Mark to continue. “It’s not that.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“It’s…” Mark struggled to find the words, shifting the bag of popcorn from one hand to another. Jaebum waited. “It’s hard to explain.”

 

The elder sighed, and Mark’s heart began to thump erratically. His heart did not slow down, even when Jaebum’s expression softened, his hand lingering near Mark’s cheek. He was still guarded, still ready for Jaebum to pull down the curtains of their show of love and end it with a click.

 

“Listen, Mark – if I just wanted to fuck you and drive you home, I would’ve said so.” He met the younger’s eyes, expression almost gentle, strangely vulnerable. Mark had never seen him like this. “I said that I liked you, and I wanted to be your boyfriend. So I want to know what’s bothering you, and I want to know what you’re concerned about.”

 

He looked almost hurt, but Mark couldn’t be certain. He couldn’t think, not properly. His mind was consumed, consumed by Jaebum, by Jinyoung, by Jackson and how suddenly, all at once, it felt like everything was falling apart.

 

Abruptly, Jaebum felt the younger lean in. His head fell onto Jaebum’s shoulder, a large box of popcorn separating their chests. Mark was silent as Jaebum wrapped his arms around the younger, pulling him closer towards his body. He didn’t cry, but Jaebum could feel him push against his body, trying to find solace in their warmth.

 

“I don’t want to lose them,” Mark murmured. His voice was muffled by Jaebum’s shoulder, but the elder could hear him well enough. “I don’t want to lose them. But I don’t want to lose you either.”

 

He felt Jaebum’s grip tighten.

 

“You don’t have to,” Jaebum said. He rubbed the younger’s back soothingly, pulling his head further towards his own chest. “And you won’t.”

 

“Jinyoung…” Mark mumbled. He lost his words when Jaebum began playing with his hair. “Jinyoung said that I had to choose. Choose between you and them.”

 

His voice was cracking.

 

“But I don’t want to lose any of you. I can’t lose any of you.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to lose my friends hyung, but I really, really like you.”

 

_I like you so much sometimes I can barely breathe_ , he thought, but he kept this a secret because he didn’t want to seem desperate.

 

Jaebum’s hands moved to cup his cheeks, bringing his face up so that they were looking at each other. Something about his presence was reassuring, and for a moment Mark remembered what Jackson had said about people falling in love with others older than them, how they seemed to have all the answers because they were mature and had experience that he seemed to lack. But he swallowed it down.

 

“You don’t have to choose,” Jaebum said. “Jinyoung’s just being silly. Let him cool off.”

 

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Mark’s lips. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, his cheeks suddenly hot.

 

“You just have to let things work themselves out,” Jaebum told him. “It will change. They will change. And then you won’t have to choose.”

 

Mark tried to smile.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

 

Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

 

“The three of you have been joined at the hip since you were ten,” he said. “You really think your friendship with them is so flimsy that one argument will destroy it all?”

 

When he spoke with such confidence, Mark found it easy to believe every word that Jaebum had to say. He looked up at his boyfriend and realised how simple everything seemed, how easy their lives were when Jaebum explained it. His lips formed a small smile.

 

“Thanks hyung.” 

 

Jaebum nodded and coughed, turning away to hide the small flush forming at his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

He wasn’t sure if he was meant to be feeling so excited, his shoulder still warm from the feeling of Mark wrapped around him, Mark leaning on him – actions which had now happened hours ago, but still seemed to burn his skin. Jaebum drove back home, rolling up the windows when he started to shiver. Mark had his leather jacket – the younger seemed to be constantly cold – and Jaebum thought it was such a shame, since that was his favourite. But once he remembered the grin spreading across the other’s face, he figured that he could do without it for a few days.

 

When he drove into the garage, he noticed that it was empty. His parents weren’t home yet – this was unusual, since they usually came home around seven – but they were always at something or another that Jaebum didn’t flinch. He shrugged – maybe traffic in the city was bad.

 

Jinyoung was on the phone with Jackson. Jaebum knew because there was the only one person that Jinyoung ever seemed to call – Jinyoung hated phone calls, but Jackson had always been an avid talker, and Jinyoung let it slide for more reasons than he used to ever want to admit. Now, it made sense. Now, they were boyfriends.

 

The phone call ended abruptly when Jaebum walked into the kitchen, the sound of his keys hitting the bowl snapping Jinyoung out of his conversation. The younger had been sprawled on the couch, a rerun of a popular crime show playing softly in the background while he kept his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. When Jinyoung had seen his brother however, everything seemed to change. He mumbled a ‘talk to you later’ into the receiver, moving from his relaxed position to one of high alert. It reminded Jaebum of their old cat when she sensed the presence of a rodent. He pretended to ignore Jinyoung’s sudden interest, opening the fridge in search of a peach.

 

“Where were you today hyung?” Jinyoung asked. It was less of a question than a demand. Jaebum rolled his eyes, still searching. He didn’t know his fridge the way he should’ve.

 

“I was at uni,” he replied. He found the bag of peaches in the bottom of the fridge and took one out at random. It wasn’t a lie, and Jaebum wasn’t a liar.

 

“Not for the whole day,” Jinyoung said. He narrowed his eyes. “On Mondays you end at two.”

 

Jaebum bit into his peach. It was quite sour – he had a poor eye for fruits. He closed the fridge.

 

“I’m not playing this game with you,” he warned.

 

 Jinyoung did not listen.

 

“Why were you out with Mark?” He asked.

 

Jaebum took another bite.

 

“You know why,” he said. He had lost the mild, almost apathetic tone that he usually donned; instead his voice was harsh, words coming out as more of a growl than a statement.

 

“What were you doing?” Jinyoung pressed.

 

Jaebum stared at him – expression disapproving – but his younger brother no longer shied away. Jinyoung’s eyes matched his, his glare fierce.

 

“He’s still a minor,” Jinyoung reminded him – as if he’d forgotten.

 

Jaebum’s eyebrow twitched. He bit his lip, fists clenched as he reminded himself that he was the older one. He had to maintain control.

 

He moved to the sink, filling up a glass of water. All while he did that, he could feel Jinyoung’s eyes baring holes into his back. This would not end well, he realised. This may not end at all.

 

“Break up,” Jinyoung said.

 

He spoke softly but surely, a command veiled as a suggestion, certainty laced in his voice. Jaebum turned around to see his brother leaning over the couch, propped up by his elbows. He half-expected to see a tail to start swinging from side to side, his brother’s stance innocent and casual. But Jinyoung was rarely as he appeared, his eyes revealing a strong sense of direction, a hardness that contradicted his posture.

 

“We’re not doing this,” Jaebum repeated. He watched his brother’s eyes harden. “Look, solve whatever drama you and Jackson have with Mark, but leave me out of it. I’m not here to play the villain in your little story.”

 

His words were cruel, but Jinyoung was also crueller.

 

“Don’t act like you’re some victim,” he snapped. “I’m not the one fucking my brother’s best friend.”

 

“We’re not doing this again,” Jaebum said. Jinyoung did not hear him.

 

“He’s my _best fucking friend!_ ” He screamed. It was the first time in a while that Jinyoung had done that. He was not a screamer. Jinyoung was a boy of sharp words and cutting edges – anger did not dress him well, made him seem uncontrolled and inconsolable. As soon as he had said this, his body froze – realisation donning upon him – and carefully he wiped away the emotions on his face. When Jinyoung spoke again, he was calm.

 

“Break up with Mark,” Jinyoung said.

 

“No.” His brother replied.

 

“Break up,” Jinyoung repeated. “Break up, or I’ll tell Mum and Dad you’re fucking a minor.”

 

Jaebum looked resigned. “Don’t do this.”

 

“I will,” Jinyoung said. “I can, and I will.”

 

His brother glared at him sharply.

 

“You do that, and I’ll tell them that you’re dating Jackson.”

 

Jinyoung stared at him. Surprise bled through his face – a sudden realisation that Jaebum was no longer playing games: that Jinyoung was, in this situation, no longer the baby brother who would get his way – before it was replaced with hurt, a betrayal that was only hypothetical but scarring nevertheless. Jaebum would’ve been lying if he said his heart didn’t tug.

 

“Do you even care about me, hyung?” Jinyoung’s voice was small when he spoke again, and it was hard to tell whether he was playing another game, or asking a genuine question. “Do you even care about how I feel?”

 

“No,” Jaebum said, more to himself than his brother. “No, no way – you do not get to do this.”

 

“Who do you love more?” Jinyoung asked, and he could see his brother breaking, but too often his feelings overrode his morale. “Who do you love more, hyung? Me, or Mark? You know, love is fleeting, but family, family is forever. Who do you care for more, hyung? Who’s going to be there at the end of the day? You have to value one over another. Because we can’t both be first in your heart, can we? Because right now you’re making a decision, and we both know who you love more.”  

 

Jaebum looked at him, looked at him _hard_ , and if he read between the lines, Jinyoung would’ve noted the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

 

“You’re a piece of work, you know that, right?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as it had been, resolve diminished by Jinyoung’s words. He sounded tired, resigned as if he could feel himself crumbling. Abruptly, he dropped the glass cup on the table, a loud _clang_ followed by his footsteps as he walked upstairs.

 

Jinyoung wasn’t done.

 

“Do you even _love me_ , hyung?” He called.

 

His voice carried upstairs, the last word unusually high, as if he was trying his best not to cry.

 

 

 

 

“You and Mark-hyung are fighting.”

 

It was Bambam who said this, unfortunately gracing Jackson with his presence in one of his free periods. The latter turned; meeting the younger’s face with a sense of confusion then suspicion. He tried to play it off.

 

“Me? Fighting? With Mark?” He faked a laugh. “Impossible!”

 

Bambam leaned over Jackson to grab his bottle of chocolate milk, chugging down a good half of it.

 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said flatly. “We all know. I know. Yugyeom knows. Heck, even Youngjae knows.”

 

The wooden seats were suddenly uncomfortable to Jackson. He shifted, eyes moving away from his friend towards the azaleas. They were blooming in a bright, eye-catching pink, but Jackson couldn’t find the energy to appreciate them. His heart was racing. Bambam pulled out his maths textbook as if he was actually about to do some work.

 

“So,” Bambam said. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

 

“Honestly?” Jackson asked. His friend nodded. “I’d rather die.”

 

“Suit yourself. Die alone.”

 

“Everyone dies alone, dude. I think I’ll take my chances.”

 

Bambam rolled his eyes. His friend was unyielding, so he pinched his underarms.

 

“Ow!” Jackson cried. “That hurt – what the fuck?”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Jackson was silent, and his friend glared.

 

“Don’t make me pinch you again.”

 

Jackson sighed, dramatically, out of habit – because everything seemed to amplify when he was with Bambam. Their actions were like tennis balls, hit harder and faster every time one of them chose to speak. Bambam reached out again for Jackson’s chocolate milk and the latter slapped him.

 

“Buy your own,” he said sternly.

 

 His friend rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You’re a stingy man.” He reached into his bag, pulling out an identical bottle. “Anyway, what happened between you and Mark?”

 

Jackson’s eyebrows twitched as he watched his friend twist open the cap of chocolate milk. He decided to ignore it, knowing that he would get nowhere with the younger boy.

 

“We’re just…” Jackson found himself lost for words. “We’re just not talking at the moment.”

 

“Bullshit,” Bambam said. “You fucking love talking to Mark. You fucking love talking to everyone.”

 

“I, I...” Jackson bit his lip. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? It’s kind of private.”

 

Bambam raised an eyebrow. “Private, huh? Like you and Jinyoung making out private?”

 

Jackson flushed a deep scarlet red. Looking around to see if anyone was close enough to have heard Bambam, he felt his hands shake.

 

“How, how, how did you know?” He stammered.

 

Bambam rolled his eyes. “You think you’re _so_ fucking discrete, don’t you…” Jackson punched him. “Sorry, _hyung_.”

 

“Your attitude is so shit,” Jackson said. His friend shrugged, chugging down his own chocolate milk this time. “Look, there’s just going on, alright? Me and Mark, we’re having a little bit of a disagreement concerning a situation.”

 

“A situation?”

 

“Yeah,” Jackson had found the best way to put it. “You see, there’s this person, and they’re a bit older than us, and there’s this other person, who’s around our age. So let’s call them Person A and Person B. So Person A is like, I want to say, five, six, years older than us? And just recently they started dating Person B. And it’s crazy, right? Because they’re about to finish uni, and Person B is just about to finish high school. So I told Mark that, but Mark thinks that it’s fine for Person B and Person A to date.”

 

Bambam frowned.

 

“Is Person B Jinyoung? Is Person A one of his brother’s pervy friends?”

 

 Jackson scowled. “The point of naming them A and B is that you don’t try to guess their identities.”

 

“Look dude, whatever.” Bambam placed the bottle on the table, now half-empty. “As if that’s everything. You and Mark wouldn’t fit over something dumb like that.”

 

“It’s _illegal_ ,” Jackson stressed.

 

“Jackson-hyung.”

 

“He – I mean Person B – is a _minor_.”

 

“C’mon hyung.”

 

“It’s morally wrong!”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Bambam stressed. He seemed determined, unconvinced by Jackson’s arguments. “What else is there?”

 

“What?”

 

“What else are you hiding?”

 

“I’m not hiding anything,” Jackson argued. “Does legality mean nothing to you?”

 

Bambam raised an eyebrow. Jackson knew that the other boy wasn’t going to let him go. He sighed.

 

“Look, a while ago – like before all of this happened and Jinyoung – I may or may not have,” he winced at the thought, “had a crush on Person A.”

 

Jackson closed his eyes, letting the embarrassment and shame rain over him like hail. He waited for his friend’s sneers, waited to be mocked for his puppy crush on an older boy. But Bambam, for all his drama and excitement, was unamused.

 

“You’re honestly so dramatic,” he said, as if he hadn’t spent the last period complaining to Yugyeom about how crinkled his favourite dress shirt was. “Big deal – what’s the problem?”

 

Jackson cringed, as if the memory was enough to make him crumble.

 

“Person B may or may not have known about my could’ve-been potential crush.” He stammered. “And they got with Person A anyway. Mark still thinks it’s fine, but I’m…I’m not so sure.”

 

Bambam stared at his chocolate milk for a while, his right hand flexing as he thought. Jackson himself said nothing, hand rolling a pen around his fingers. Eventually Bambam turned back to his friend.

 

“Don’t forget that you’re dating someone,” he warned. His tone was uncharacteristically stern, eyebrows furrowed in a way that lacked humour or jest. “Don’t let what you did feel fuck up what you’re feeling now. If you’re with someone, you shouldn’t feel anything for other people. You don’t own the people you used to love.”

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

“Don’t hurt Jinyoung and fuck up your little _best friends forever_ trio any more than you already have,” Bambam said.

 

_Any more than you already have_ – the words shot into Jackson’s ear, settling there like a parasite embedded in its host. Any more than he already had – how had he wrecked their friendship? The answer came easier than he thought. Jinyoung, Jinyoung and Jackson – together they’d shifted the dynamics, shifted them in a way that seemed harmless to them, but when Jackson thought about it, they had shifted in a way that was dangerous to Mark. Jackson’s neighbour and close friend Jimin had said that groups of three were dangerous, since two people would always be closer to each other than the other. But that had never been the case with Jinyoung and Mark, so Jackson had dismissed it as a girl thing, an issue that only affected Jimin and her group of friends and the new girl Ahyeon who was growing closer to Yerin every day. Perhaps things weren’t restricted by gender.

 

Jackson already knew that, but sometimes, he didn’t.

 

 

 

 

Mark was taking an afternoon nap when Jaebum called him. He had been on his bed still in his school uniform, phone connected to his headphones blasting out The Weeknd when suddenly it stopped. Mark would’ve been lying if he said a part of his heart didn’t flutter, fingers moving to accept a call he would usually ignore.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey.”

 

Instead of being on his bed, he was now sitting at his desk, fingers tracing lines of dust as he listened to Jaebum talk. He talked about his day, how he had nearly fallen asleep in his lecture, how he had spent the afternoon doing a group project with his friend Youngjae – Mark also had a friend called Youngjae, he told the elder this – how he had an assignment due tomorrow and he’d done nothing, and how he had applied for an internship for the summer. Mark smiled.

 

“You must be tired,” he said.

 

On the other end, Jaebum laughed.

 

“I think I’m always tired,” he replied. “I don’t feel it anymore.”

 

“You should sleep more,” Mark told him. He was grinning. “It’s better for you.”

 

“Are you saying this because you were just sleeping?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I’ve known you since you were ten.”

 

Mark stiffened, but Jaebum couldn’t see him. He allowed himself a few moments to catch himself.

 

“You should look after your body,” Mark said. “You stress yourself out too much.”

 

Jaebum paused. Then Mark swore he could hear a smile in his voice.

 

“I will, I promise, _mum_.”

 

Mark bit his lip, trying to stop a smile from taking over his face. He glanced at his table, eyeing a photo of himself, Jackson and Jinyoung from when they were twelve, graduating from elementary school. Jaebum had taken the photo. The thought of Jaebum behind a camera made his heart skip a beat.

 

“Why did you call me?” He asked.

 

“Can I not call you?” Jaebum returned.

 

Mark rolled his eyes. His silence made Jaebum laugh.

 

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he said, “That’s all.”

 

So they talked about normal things, light conversation. They talked about the predicted storms, the temperature dropping, the new movie coming out, Mark’s maths homework – all while avoiding the topic of Jinyoung and Jackson. With Jaebum, Mark felt that he could forget about their little fight – he could pretend, if only for a few minutes, that they weren’t fighting, that he was free to play house with his best friend’s brother without the consequences that came with mixing family with friendships. Jaebum sounded like he was grabbing a textbook from his shelf when his phone buzzed.

 

“Shit,” he said.

 

Mark’s ears perked. “Something wrong?” He asked.

 

“Yeah.” He grumbled. Mark thought he could hear his boyfriend fumbling for his keys. “My stupid friend has a project due tomorrow, and he just realised he’s out of white paint. I have to go grab it for him.”

 

Mark laughed. “Why can’t he get it himself?”

 

He could imagine the latter rolling his eyes. “Because he’s an idiot and he hasn’t started on it at all. He’s planning to pull an all-nighter, and the nearest art shop is a twenty minute drive from his house.”

 

“I can go grab it for you.”

 

Jaebum paused.

 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he said quickly. “It’s not your problem.”

 

“It’s not yours either,” Mark argued.

 

“Yeah, but he’s my friend,” Mark could hear the elder scrambling on the other side.

 

“Don’t you have an assignment to work on?” Mark asked. “You don’t have time to grab the paint. There’s a shop about ten minutes from my house. Just text me his address and I’ll leave it at his door or something.”

 

“Mark,” Jaebum said, “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I’m not doing anything anyway.” He said. “What’s the big deal?”

 

Mark could hear the latter sighing.

 

“I owe you one,” Jaebum said in a small voice.

 

Mark shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Text me his address, yeah?”

 

“Thanks,” the elder sounded relieved. “I love you.”

 

Mark bit his lip. The last three words had been said in a hurry; a quick, absent statement that the former had properly said without thinking, words out of habit then genuine thought. A smile he wasn’t sure he should warrant was starting to spread across his face.

 

“No worries,” he replied.

 

Every time he thought about those last three words, his heart seemed to skip a beat.

 

 

 

 

Jackson was never much of a painter, but Jinyoung seemed to love everything thoughtful and handmade, and everyone knew that the best way to survive a personal issue was to distract oneself with other, less-pressing matters. So Jackson had caught a bus to a small art store and was now looking at a variety of craft items he would never need, but felt the urge to buy. Pompoms, pipe-cleaners and glitter decorated the entire aisle, craft paper and unusually-shaped brown envelopes separating different craft items. Jackson thought about buying glue, because not everything would stick together with tape and pipe-cleaners, but he was also thinking about paint, because painting a message on ceramic cups was the exact kind of gift that would make Jinyoung grin.

 

The thought of Jinyoung smiling was doing a very good job at suppressing Jackson’s own feelings of guilt.

 

Jackson was a textbook people-pleaser – he liked being liked, and while everyone liked being liked, Jackson liked it more and was astutely aware of it. His heart began to flutter at the thought of Jinyoung’s pleased face, his eyes curving into crescents, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. He thought about this as he stacked on pompoms upon pompoms, crafts piling into his hands as he rode on the high of imagining Jinyoung beaming.

 

Jackson’s hands were getting full. He spied a basket at the end of the aisle, and as he moved to grab it, he spotted a row of paints and a familiar figure. Jackson often spoke before he thought.

 

“Mark?”

 

The figure froze. Jackson remembered that they weren’t talking a little too late as he watched his friend turn around slowly, a testing expression on his face. His eyes were cold – not out of cruelty, but out of fear, the wariness that came with fighting with your best friends. He bit his lip and for a second, it appeared that Mark was contemplating bolting out; running away instead of facing his friend.

 

He didn’t, however. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Jackson.”

 

Jackson’s surprise had faded and he was now aware that they weren’t on speaking terms. His gaze faltered, eyes darting from Mark to the paint bottle in his hand. Mark wasn’t a painter.

 

“What’s that for?” Jackson asked.

 

Mark looked surprised.

 

“About that…” he trailed off, eyes interested in everything but Jackson. It was unlike Mark to be so flustered. He gripped the paint bottle tightly, his eyes focused on his shoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

 

Jackson was not an idiot. He was loud and impulsive and he spoke before he thought, but Jackson wasn’t stupid. He could guess why Mark, Mark who hadn’t touched a paintbrush since elementary school, was at a crafts shop, buying paint when he could barely differentiate between acrylics and watercolours. His surprise and uncertainty were soon replaced with disgust and frustration. He raised an eyebrow, expression now harsh.

 

Mark was here for someone else.

 

“Are you his dog now?” Jackson said. His voice had a bigger bite than it should’ve, but he didn’t think about that. His eyes remained sharp, focused entirely on Mark’s face.

 

Mark looked down at his hands.

 

“That’s not what this is,” he denied. Jackson’s eyes darted to the bottle of paint.

 

Mark was doing a favour for Jaebum. Mark had gone out of his way for Jaebum. Mark really cared for Jaebum. These thoughts seemed to swarm around his head, awakening scarier parts of him, scared parts of him, parts of Jackson that were afraid and nervous and uncertain and childlike. Parts of Jackson that he had tried to suppress because he was seventeen not thirteen and self-conscious, because people didn’t like other people who were clingy to their friends. But Jackson would’ve done anything for his friends. Jackson would’ve done anything for Mark.

 

“Wow,” He couldn’t hide the bitterness from his voice. “I ask you to buy me a snack before we catch the bus and that’s too hard, but suddenly your precious _Jaebum-hyung_ wants something and you’re on your knees?”

 

“Jackson, it’s not like that,” Mark started, but Jackson was faster.

 

“Did our friendship mean nothing to you?” He asked. Because he had always wondered.

 

Because Jackson was a talker, a big talker with a huger heart and he always said how he felt and what he wanted. And Jinyoung was good, because Jinyoung used his words and told him how he felt and Jackson could do that, Jackson could love that, because he always knew how Jinyoung was feeling. But Mark had always been different. Mark had always been clumsy with words, stingy with words – he’d always been somehow distant when his mouth opened, ambiguity and uncertainty hiding between all the gaps in his words. And Jackson loved Mark. And Mark loved Jackson. But sometimes it didn’t come across. And sometimes Jackson thought he cared for Mark more than Mark cared for him.

 

“Of course it means something to me!” Mark shouted. Jackson was taken back by the other’s voice. Mark was as well – he looked around suspiciously, as if he had been caught, before he lowered his voice once again. “Of course it means something to me, Jackson.”

 

Mark looked hurt by the thought, and for a second, Jackson’s heart started to fall.

 

“Did you ever think about how I felt when you and Jinyoung started loving each other?”

 

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, a reminder that while Mark and Jaebum had rocked their boat, Jinyoung and Jackson had rocked Mark’s. Jackson could feel his heart clenching, a part of him no longer comfortable with the stand he had chosen to take.

 

“Did you ever think,” Mark asked, “About how scared I was when you two started dating? How I was suddenly the odd one out? We wouldn’t be the same. I knew that, and you knew that, deep down inside. You and Jinyoung would always be closer to each other than you would ever be to me.”

 

“You knew,” Jackson said softly, “You knew how I felt about Jaebum-hyung…”

 

Mark stared at him.

 

“You can’t have them both,” he said. His voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the abandoned art shop. Jackson looked at his friend and watched how hurt seemed to seep through his face, expression difficult as if Mark had considered this thought before, as if Mark had felt what Jackson was feeling now. “Don’t be greedy, Jackson. You can’t love them both.”

 

_You can’t love them both_. The words had barely left Mark’s mouth before he heard them in his own head, poisonous and cruel, an echo of a conversation he had had before. _You can’t have us both_. He had made a decision. They had all made decisions. And suddenly, they wanted it all. But had it really been too much to ask? It hadn’t seemed like that to Mark – fall in love and keep your best friends, but perhaps to Jackson it hadn’t been a choice he thought he had to make. Fall in love with your best friend and have your other best friend not touch your past objects of affection. Had he hurt Jackson? He didn’t think he had. But Jackson was hurt. And so was he. Mark’s fingers curled around the paint bottle.

 

“I,” Mark didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. He hated this feeling, this smallness – this thought of vulnerability, this sense of hurt that made him suddenly so tiny, so soft in a world that could destroy him before he could even blink. “I just want you back, Jackson. I just want us to go back to how we were.”

 

He didn’t give Jackson a chance to reply.

 

“But that’s not possible.”

 

 

 

 

Jinyoung was not talking to Jaebum.

 

They hadn’t been on speaking terms since their last tense encounter. At the dinner table, conversation was stiff if at all, both trying subtly to jab at each other’s poor choices. If Jinyoung was honest, a part of him was tired of it. A part of him just wanted his brother back, wanted his best friends back, wanted everything to return to how it was before Mark and Jaebum had started messing around. But that part of him also knew that if he wanted everything back – everything _truly_ back to how they were – he would have to return to a time where he wasn’t dating Jackson.

 

And it was for that reason that he couldn’t fully wish things to return.

 

He loved Jackson. He loved Jackson more than he thought he could, loved the latter with every inch of his body. He loved Jackson so much that the mere thought of being with Jackson made him happy, his face breaking out into a smile every time he thought about what Jackson might say. Jackson didn’t complete him, because Jinyoung didn’t believe in love forming whole beings, but Jackson made him happy, Jackson made him feel at home, Jackson brought calm and joy into every part of his body. Jackson knew him, Jackson understood him and the thought of someone understanding him the way that Jackson did made him feel unexplainably happy.

 

He couldn’t give that up. The thought of giving up his relationship with Jackson seemed impossible. He didn’t think he could do that.

 

But it didn’t stop him from ignoring Jaebum as he walked down the stairs to fix himself a snack. His brother was sitting at the kitchen bench, laptop and notes sprayed out along the table. Bright afternoon light shone in through the back door, a half-eaten cup of ramen lying close to the edge of the bench. A part of Jinyoung hoped that it would fall and shatter, leaving Jaebum a mess to clean up – one akin to the mess he had caused Jinyoung and his friends.

 

He opened the freezer, digging out a mango-flavoured ice-block from its box. He slammed the freezer shut. Jinyoung ripped the packaging with a loud _crunch_ , thrusting the dessert from its packaging. If Jaebum was annoyed, he didn’t show it. His eyes barely left the screen, hand extending only to bring a cup of tea closer to his lips.

 

Jinyoung had been moving to dump his wrapping in the bin – moved closer to Jaebum for convenience – when the elder’s phone started buzzing. Both brothers were ripped out of their silence, eyes shifting to the screen.

 

_Mark is calling._ Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I see you’re still fucking around,” Jinyoung said.

 

Jaebum sighed.

 

“I told you, I’m not doing this.”

 

Jinyoung motioned towards his phone. “Then go ahead. Answer it.”

 

The phone stopped before he could. Mark must’ve cancelled the call, though neither knew why. Instead they continued staring – a battle of wills – before Jaebum broke away.

 

“Look, I have this project due. I don’t have time to deal with this right now.” He said, and his eyes moved back to the screen, fingers typing away as if they hadn’t even spoken. Jinyoung was not done.

 

“Yes,” he said, his voice rising, “Because everything stops as soon as you say it does. Wow, hyung – is that what’s going to happen to Mark once you get bored?”

 

Jaebum’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t reply.

 

“Oh of course cool _Jaebum-hyung_ has nothing to say about that,” Jinyoung spat. “Of course you’re fine with it, because you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself and you just do whatever you want, leading your pathetic life with your pathetic friends and your fuck buddies while you hope Mum and Dad come up with a way to save your obsolete ass.”

 

The elder’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jinyoung was starting to get to him.

 

“You want to know what your problem is?” Jinyoung asked. “You’re so used to getting everything you want. Popular _Jaebum-hyung_ , heartthrob hyung, hyung who has Mummy and Daddy deciding his future so that he doesn’t have to, hyung who gets everyone he wants because he’s so cool and in control, and everyone thinks that’s ‘cause you’re mature but I’m your brother _hyung_ , and I know that the only reason you’re like that is because no one has ever told your dumbass _no_.”

 

Jinyoung smiled.

 

“And that’s what Mark did, right? He didn’t tell you no. He couldn’t tell you no, because he was so amazed by how _cool_ and _perfect_ you are, and how your sorry ass was paying attention to him.” He sneered. “And you don’t care about how that hurts me, how you’re fucking wrecking my whole life, because the only person you care about is yourself.”

 

Jaebum’s fists hit the table with a _bang_. He stood up angrily, expression no longer calm and peaceful. Jinyoung had truly upset him.

 

“Don’t play that card with me,” he growled. “You think I have everything handed to me? You think I’m living this perfect life? You’re fucking wrong. At least you have a _choice_. At least you get to choose what you do and who you want to be. You have no idea what it’s like playing this envisioned _big brother_ role you and Mum and Dad and everyone seems to fucking have in mind.”

 

His anger seemed to roar, fires burning in his body as if he was about to explode. He could only see red – no Jinyoung, no roles, no be the good big brother, control your temper – it all seemed redundant now.

 

“You think I want to do this?” Jaebum snarled. “You think I want to go to class every day, do what Mum and Dad say all the time, be their boring reliable son who looks after his little brother while they pretend we’re trophies? You have no idea what it’s like. Every day I’m someone’s fucking crutch. Everyone always goes to Jaebum because he’s got his fucking life together and looks after his little brother all the time so he’ll have no problem being our big brother too! _Fuck this_. Do you know what it’s like to have everyone depend on you at every moment of the day, expecting you to be this fucking perfect organised machine that they can just dump all their shit onto? For _fuck’s sake._ ”

 

Jinyoung didn’t speak. Jaebum didn’t expect him to.

 

“I don’t like Mark because he thinks I’m perfect,” he snapped. “I like him because he’s the only fucking person to treat me like a human being.”

 

In his frenzy, he flung his arm. The bowl of ramen fell and shattered on the floor, soup rolling across the tiles. Neither seemed to care.

 

“Do you think I like hurting you?” Jaebum asked. “Do you think I like watching you and Jackson and Mark destroy each other? Because I don’t. And I’m sorry for wanting someone who actually sees me as a person. I’m sorry for wanting to be selfish for _one thing_ in my fucking life. And I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry I don’t want to be your selfless reliable big brother at every moment of the fucking day, being your crutch and your scapegoat and whatever other shit you make me do because Mum and Dad aren’t home to look after you, and now that’s my job and I love you Jinyoung, I really do, but god fucking dammit is it really that much to ask for a fucking breath?”

 

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly, purposefully, as if it took all his energy to concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. The front door was open, and people walked through, but neither brother noticed.

 

“We don’t choose who we fall in love with, Jinyoung,” Jaebum said, “Because if we did, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to fall in love with Mark.”

 

 And that was all it took. One sentence, almost insignificant, out of context, and Mark was out of the door as fast as he had been in. Jaebum and Jinyoung had turned to see Mark and Jackson entering the kitchen, apparently reconciled, when the elder’s words had rung bells in Mark’s head. He had stood for a moment, confused and hurt, before he had bolted, because Mark was Mark and Mark didn’t stay when he knew the outcome. Jackson looked equally hurt, equally angry. Jinyoung didn’t even know when they’d come in.

 

“Nice one, _hyung_ ,” Jackson said, and he ran off to follow Mark.

 

For a moment, the two stood in silence, both equally surprised by how the events had played out. Jaebum couldn’t think. He didn’t think. All he could do was stare at the open door, remember how Mark had run out, remember how he had lost his temper, how he had lost his fight. He felt defeated. Jinyoung too was stunned. He was motionless, still staring at the space where his two best friends had been. He could hear the sound of Jaebum picking up shards of what had been his bowl, orange liquid pooling at the bottom of his seat.

 

“Shit,” Jaebum swore. He had cut himself on a particularly sharp edge.

 

Jinyoung soon found his feet.

 

“I’m going to go after them,” he said. “And explain everything, to Mark. And tell him that it’s not your fault.”

 

Jaebum continued to move the bowl into the bin. Jinyoung bit his lip.

 

“Hyung?” He said. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jaebum didn’t answer.

 

 

 

 

Mark had thought that the height of emotion was when he was high on the feeling of love, but now he thought that it was heartbreak where his feelings peaked.

 

He ran off silently, tears welling at the bottom of his eyes. He had managed to keep them from falling, but that didn’t seem to suppress how shit he was feeling. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility, but perhaps Jackson and Jinyoung had been right. Perhaps Jaebum had been playing him. But he didn’t think that that sounded right. He couldn’t entirely convince himself that what they’d felt – all the smiles and texts and talks and laughter – had all just been an elaborate scheme to get in his pants. But he couldn’t erase what he had heard. He couldn’t entirely pretend that Jaebum hadn’t said that he didn’t want to love Mark. His heart was pounding, and he felt so stupid, so humiliated, like such an idiot because he’d thrown away his friends, he’d thrown away his happiness, all to hope that this one blind shot at having a relationship would work out. And everyone had seen that it didn’t. They’d all been there: Jaebum, Jinyoung and Jackson. They’d all seen how stupid he’d been, how dumb he had been to hope that with Jaebum, he’d been different. To entertain the childlike thought that despite himself, Mark would be special. He wanted to scream. Behind him, he could hear Jackson catching up, his voice carried by the wind, feet pounding on the concrete. Mark didn’t stop.

 

His friend hurled him back, hand grabbing his shoulder with a strong grip. Mark was forced to turn around, bashfully meeting his friend’s eyes. It was obvious that he was about to cry.

 

“Dude,” Jackson said. Mark interrupted him.

 

“Don’t,” he warned, and Jackson wasn’t sure what he meant. “Don’t start. I’m not prepared to have this conversation.”

 

“Mark…”

 

Mark turned away, blinking feverishly to will the tears away.

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said. “’You should’ve listened to me. We told you so.’ I get it, okay?”

 

Jackson’s eyes darkened.

 

“I didn’t follow you because of that.”

 

“Well,” Mark’s voice was rising. “I know that’s what you’re thinking anyway.”

 

Jackson grabbed both his shoulders, forcing Mark to meet his friend’s eyes. Jackson, like everything he did, was intense and oddly heartfelt, his body brimming with emotions like they were threatening to spill from his body.

 

“Look dude, I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright,” he said, “Because I know you’re really hurt and I know you liked him a lot and it must really suck to know that someone doesn’t love you the way you love them.”

 

“Well I’m fine,” Mark lied. “Because clearly my feelings weren’t an issue when your boyfriend was threatening me.”

 

Jackson looked hurt.

 

“Don’t make this about that,” Jackson said. “You’re upset, I get it.”

 

“Why shouldn’t I? Because this is inconvenient for you?” Mark snarled. “This is perfect for you, isn’t it? You’re loving it, aren’t you? Because now you get to keep your friends and your crush on _Jaebum-hyung_. Are you ever going to tell him, Jackson? Tell Jinyoung why you were so against his brother dating?”

 

Jackson was almost speechless.

 

“Mark,” he whispered.

 

Mark knew that he was being mean, but he felt mean.

 

“When were you going to tell Jinyoung that you’re still in love with Jaebum-hyung?”

 

They were bad at timing. Or perhaps Mark was good at timing, he just wasn’t thinking. Because Jinyoung stood within hearing range, his hands limp as he looked at Jackson pathetically, his expression mirroring Mark’s not so long ago. Jackson could feel his heart breaking, and it wasn’t just because he had just hurt Jinyoung – it was because Mark had hurt him. And never when they were little did Jackson think that things could come to this, that all three of them would wield words like knives and cut each other in the places they knew hurt the most. Jackson released Mark and turned around.

 

“Jinyoung,” he stammered, “This isn’t what you think…”

 

But Jinyoung was calm when he spoke. And when Jinyoung was calm, he was angry and ready to kill.

 

“No,” he said, “I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I think.”

 

And he walked away. Just like that, he was walking away. Jackson reached out to stop him, tried calling for him, but every action he took was futile. Jinyoung had made a decision. And Mark had made one too. And Jackson felt like shit, pure and utter shit, because his best friend had hurt him and his boyfriend thought that he didn’t love him, and Jackson wasn’t sure how he had thought things would go when he fell in love with Jinyoung, but he was certain that this wasn’t it. Everything, all of this – this wasn’t what they wanted; this wasn’t what they had thought.

 

Jackson walked away, and his heart felt like weights on his body, pulling him down to the ground that he hoped would swallow him whole.

 

 

 

 

“So, you fucked something up.”

 

Namjoon was standing outside a cosy bar, dressed in a blazer and fitted pants, his expression sceptical but somehow fond of Jackson, small in his oversized coat and the guilt weighing down on his back. Jackson looked offended, but he didn’t shy away.

 

“What gave it away?” He asked.

 

“You only say urgent when you fuck up,” Namjoon replied.

 

The last time Jackson and Namjoon had formally met, Jackson had been thirteen and still riding high on the feeling of amusing older people. Namjoon had been at another party when Jackson had seen the girl he just kissed move on to flirt with a pretty girl and his heart had sunk, because they’d had really good conversation before and he had been really hoping that it would become something more than a casual hook-up. He’d texted Namjoon ‘urgent’, and they’d gone to the park to talk about their fuck-ups and how the world was a shitty place to live.

 

Namjoon was inherently a good person. He just happened to hang out with a lot of shitty people. That’s why Jackson liked him. Because despite his daringness and his boldness and all the arrogance that came with being thirteen, Jackson was a good person.

 

They went in together and Jackson lied about his age, his friend shouting them drinks as they moved to a small table out of the public’s eye. Namjoon shrugged off his blazer and tucked his sunglasses into his shirt, his expression caring, but cold.

 

“If you get wasted,” he said, “I’ll leave you here to rot.”

 

They both knew it was a lie.

 

Jackson took a large gulp of whatever his friend had ordered and wanted to splutter. He didn’t often have the means or money to drink anything other than convenience store beer (that in itself, he thought, was already pretty risky), but when he did, he thought he should’ve just saved Namjoon the money and asked for juice. His friend snickered and asked him what had happened.

 

“You said it yourself,” Jackson said dejectedly. “I fucked up.”

 

And then he started from the beginning. He started from when he kissed Jinyoung, when they fell in love, when they told Mark and Mark wanted them all to remain friends. And when he spoke about this, a big smile crossed his face, one that he didn’t necessarily understand because despite everything, his heart was still warm when he thought about falling in love with Jinyoung. But this didn’t last for long, because then he talked about walking in on Mark and Jaebum and the bitter feelings returned. Because Jackson could still remember how betrayed he had felt that day. He recalled how he’d taken a few crude shots at the elder, and how he and Mark and Jinyoung had drifted.

 

And then he spoke about today. About how he’d seen Mark at the craft shop, how they’d agreed to make up because they didn’t like fighting. And then he got to when they were walking to Jinyoung and Jaebum’s house, and suddenly his words were caught in his throat.

 

Namjoon sighed. “I’ve honestly heard it all.” He said. “Just say it.”

 

“Then we heard Jaebum-hyung say ‘If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Mark’ and then Mark ran off.” But that wasn’t the hard bit. The hard bit was admitting what followed. “And then I ran after Mark, and so did Jinyoung, and Mark got really angry and asked me.”

 

Jackson took in a deep breath. He hated this bit. He had only lived with the memory for a few hours, but it felt like years.

 

“And then Mark asked me when I would ever tell Jinyoung that I loved Jaebum-hyung,” Jackson said, and again, he winced at the thought. It was too soon, he thought. It had been barely a week and he’d admitted this fact twice. It was too many.

 

Namjoon wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was unamused.

 

“And do you?” He asked. “Do you love Jaebum?”

 

Jackson was surprised.

 

“No!” He said suddenly. He looked flustered. “Not anymore.”

 

“Then it shouldn’t matter,” Namjoon said. “Just explain that to Jinyoung.”

 

It sounded simple – just explain it to Jinyoung, his friend had said – but Jackson knew that it was not. He took a sip of his drink, this time careful not to chug.

 

“It’s not that easy,” Jackson said. He sighed, burying his head in his hands. “You don’t understand.”

 

“What? Does Jinyoung have some inferiority complex?”

 

“No! Not that. It’s just, it’s just hard.”

 

“Hard? To admit that you’re not in love with your boyfriend’s brother?” Namjoon was sceptical.

 

“No,” Jackson shook his head, “To admit that I ever was.”

 

Namjoon opened his mouth, about to say something else, when immediately it shut and his eyes darted to the side of Jackson’s face. Jackson followed his gaze, the trail leading him to a clean-looking figure, a long black coat covering most of his frame. When it turned, Jackson saw numerous piercings and his boyfriend’s brother enter the bar.

 

“Well,” Namjoon shrugged. “No time like the present to sort your shit out. Hey, Jaebum!”

 

Jaebum turned, his eyes flashing in surprise as his gaze moved from Namjoon towards Jackson. He frowned, but Jaebum wasn’t above social expectation – Namjoon, Jackson thought, must’ve known  this – for Jaebum made his way over towards the duo, a hardened look covering his discomfort at the situation. Jackson found himself once again wishing that the ground would swallow him whole.

 

“Grab a seat, grab a seat,” Namjoon was already getting one for him, ignoring the accusing look on Jackson’s face. “I’ll go grab you a drink. Sit down, Jaebum. I was just trying to comfort Jackson.”

 

Jackson rolled his eyes, watching his friend-slash-betrayer walk off, leaving him to confront a situation he didn’t think either of them wanted. Jaebum sat down on the seat, his eyes amused by everything that wasn’t Jackson. His fingers drummed on the table, and Jackson could see that the elder was just as uncomfortable to be there as he was. He decided to be the first to talk.

 

“So,” he said. “Mark, huh?”

 

Jaebum sighed. Jackson watched his jaw clench, his tone harsh and forbidding when he spoke.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. It sounded more like a snarl than the controlled tone Jackson had come to expect. He was almost taken back, watching Jaebum lean back into his chair, dangling on the edge of being defeated. “Look, no matter what it looks like, I didn’t want to hurt you or Jinyoung or Mark. It just happened to go that way, and I’m sorry it did. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Mark, because it caused him and you and Jinyoung so much harm. But I didn’t, and this is where we are.”

 

He looked away.

 

“So think what you want.”

 

Sometimes Jackson liked to think that his heart was made of steel. That he was cold and indestructible because he was mouldable, a polygon mesh with so many sides that he thought he could escape his feelings by having more faces. But Jackson was nothing but a puddle of emotions, of feelings and empathy so large that everyone seemed to warrant his sympathy, even his best friend and boyfriend’s brother, so cold yet somehow so pitiful.

 

“I liked you hyung,” Jackson blurted. He felt his cheeks burning, heat rushing up. “I used to like you a lot.”

 

The end of Jaebum’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach his face.

 

“Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

 

He coughed.

 

“I used to think you admiration was cute,” he said quietly. “But I’m not that childish anymore.”

 

Perhaps thirteen-year-old Jackson would’ve been overjoyed, emotions running hard and fast like they wanted to whisk him off his feet because an older boy was paying attention to him, an older boy liked him. But seventeen-year-old Jackson – smitten with the idea of falling in love with his best friend – could only nod, an acknowledgement of what they had once felt. Childlike on their behalf – childlike because Jackson wanted to be mature, and Jaebum wanted to seem so, but never enough – not even if they tried – to create a lasting relationship.

 

“I don’t like you anymore,” Jackson said. “Not in that way.”

 

Jaebum nodded. “Of course.”

 

He stared at Jackson, both suddenly quiet. The buzz of the cosy bar made their silence less awkward, Jaebum’s eyes flitting to the assortment of people walking around, moving to get another drink, going off to leave, to greet people, to move away. 

 

“Don’t let how you felt then affect what you feel now,” Jaebum said. “You have to let go of what you used to feel. You can’t be greedy with love. You can’t love us both.”

 

And there he was again, big brother Jaebum, wise Jaebum – Jaebum with all the answers, all the advice because he’d been there, because he’d been scratched there, he’d been hit there, and now he knew what to avoid. Jackson nodded.

 

“Yeah,” he said shakily. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Jaebum turned around. “Now where’s Namjoon with my fucking drink?” He scanned the crowd, zoning in on the latter, chatting up the bartender. “That _turd_.”

 

Jaebum got up, probably to harass his friend and complain about how nobody could be trusted to do anything. Jackson watched his retreating figure and paused.

 

“Hyung?”

 

Jaebum turned around.

 

“Thank you,” Jackson said.

 

The elder nodded.

 

“No problem.”

 

 

 

 

Jinyoung had always dreamt of his lover knocking on his window at night, whisking him away to a psychedelic party or something dangerous, sexy and addicting. Of course when this fantasy had first implanted itself in his mind, he had been fourteen and deluded. At seventeen however, he found that his dreams had been fulfilled, his best friend knocking on his window erratically because Jackson was impatient. At seventeen a part of him was petty and opened the window by hurling it up, watching in quiet amusement as Jackson almost fell from the ledge.

 

“Can we talk?” Jackson asked pleadingly.

 

Jinyoung could feel a part of him soften, but it wasn’t enough.

 

“I think we talked enough,” Jinyoung snapped, but the window was open and it was an unspoken invitation to come in.

 

Jackson squashed himself through the window inelegantly, readjusting his position several times to push himself in. The space Jinyoung had left had not been generous. Jinyoung himself sat on his bed, arms folded and legs crossed, waiting for an explanation. The air was thick with tension and Jackson found it hard to believe that a week ago, this room had been like a second home.

 

He stood around awkwardly, unwelcome in a place he knew better than his own house. Jinyoung did not make any effort to assist him. He was angry, Jackson knew. He was angry and he was hurt and he knew how to mask these feelings with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.

 

“I don’t love Jaebum-hyung,” he said. Jinyoung was unimpressed. “I mean, I did, but I don’t now. But when I did, I was thirteen, and I was dumb, you know? It was a childish crush. It was just a crush. It was just me looking for approval. I don’t love him now, Jinyoung. I love you.”

 

His first confession and he’d ruined it in an argument. Jinyoung closed his eyes, shaking his head in what Jackson guessed was disappointment. He looked exhausted.

 

“When you said Jaebum-hyung and Mark shouldn’t date,” he said slowly, “Did you say that because you cared, or because you thought hyung was yours?”

 

His words were like shards of glass, jagged and painful, hitting Jackson where it hurt the most. He could lie, he knew – it was the easy way out, the best way to preserve what he had with Jinyoung. He could pretend that he had never considered Jaebum his, that he was never angry at Mark because he felt betrayed. But Jackson loved Jinyoung too much to lie.

 

“Both,” he said honestly, and his heart plummeted when Jinyoung’s face fell. “But I talked to hyung, and I know that that wasn’t right. He wasn’t mine, and I don’t love him. I never did. I was infatuated with him, and I admired him, but I didn’t love him. I just thought that I did.”

 

“You either loved him or you didn’t,” Jinyoung snapped. “You’re contradicting yourself. What are you trying to say?”

 

Jackson sighed. His heart seemed to pound.

 

“When I was thirteen, I was infatuated with your brother.” The words, honest and bitter, burned his tongue. “And I’m sorry, and I don’t feel that anymore.”

 

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “And?”

 

“And what?” Jackson was surprised.

 

“Why were you against hyung and Mark’s relationship?”

 

Jackson took in a deep breath. Jinyoung would make him say everything.

 

“Because I’m selfish, and I’m an idiot, and I thought that Mark shouldn’t date someone I used to have a crush on.”

 

“Yeah,” Jinyoung said. “That’s what I thought.”

 

His confession seemed to satisfy Jinyoung, if only for a bit. The rest of him remained unyielding, expression cold. For a moment, they shared their silence, thick and heavy, uncomfortable unlike the ones they’d shared out of familiarity. Jinyoung tilted his head.

 

“You know why it hurts so much?” He asked. His voice was cold and raw, a terrible tone to mask all the feelings he couldn’t admit to. “Because somehow, no matter where I go, or who I talk to, hyung is always the first choice.”

 

He laughed. It was a cruel sound, harsh as if with every second, he was tearing himself apart. Jackson didn’t want to watch.

 

“Even you,” he said. “Hyung was your first love, and he’s Mark’s first boyfriend. And I just thought, I don’t know, maybe it’s too much to ask, but I thought that you guys were mine. I thought that you guys would just like _me_.”

 

Jackson wanted to reach out, but Jinyoung swatted him away.

 

“I don’t want your pity,” he said, and with his eyes Jinyoung said _you can’t fool me, Jackson Wang – I know exactly how you think_. “You can’t do anything about that. It’s just how it is. Everyone likes hyung more.”

 

Jackson shook his head. Desperately, he wished that he could build words to comfort the other, words that would act as a fortress to protect Jinyoung from the world, protect him from the world and his own thoughts, cushion him, cage him in, have him see things the way Jackson saw them. Because to Jackson, Jinyoung was what love was in a person. Jinyoung was smart and he was kind and he was insightful and loving and loyal and honest and Jackson wanted to be around him forever.

 

“Hyung wasn’t my first love,” he said. “You are.”

 

Jinyoung shook his head. “Don’t lie,” he hissed.

 

“I’m not,” Jackson insisted. “I’m serious. It really is you. You really are my first love.”

 

He closed his eyes, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.

 

“I liked hyung, I was infatuated with him, but that’s not the same as falling in love with you.” He met Jinyoung’s eyes, harsh and cruel and soulless as they were when he had his walls up. “And I wish that I could convince you that this is how I feel.”

 

Jinyoung choked out a laugh.

 

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said coldly, “It’s hard to trust someone who didn’t tell me he wanted to fuck my brother. When were you going to tell me, Jackson? When were you going to mention that you wanted to screw me over?”

 

“Jinyoung,” he said, “That’s not it.”

 

“Then what is it?” Jinyoung demanded. “What is it? Am I not enough? Was I not enough for you? Did you need us both?”

 

Jackson was wary.

 

“Tell me,” Jinyoung urged. “Was this for your ego? Was I too boring for you?”

 

“I didn’t want to fuck this up!” Jackson shouted. His friend stepped back, and perhaps it was a fortunate thing that Jinyoung’s parents were rarely ever home. Jackson was panting. “I didn’t want to fuck this up, okay? I didn’t want to fuck up what I have with you and our friendship with Mark and everything that made me feel like I was walking on sunshine and rainbows. Because I didn’t want you to hate me, or get angry at me, because I love you so, so, _so_ much and I know that everything is fragile and temporary and we’re just kids but I didn’t want this to be one of them. I just didn’t want to _lose_ you.”  

 

And finally, at sixteen Jinyoung understood that teenagers have clumsy hands; that they find precious things and they hold them with clumsy, whimsical grips, hoping that they won’t fall and shatter. He looked at Jackson, looked at the vulnerability in his eyes, and realised that Jackson was holding their relationship with clumsy hands; that he was trying desperately to hold it, to grab it and not let it go. And his grip was slippery, and Jinyoung had a choice now: Jinyoung could let him drop it, or he could reach out and hold it with him, and their two shaking hands could try to save it together, save their fragile hearts and their fleeting yet permanent feelings from breaking. And he could save his relationship with Jackson, save his relationship with Mark and with Jaebum, and he could grab their hearts and hold them. And maybe, possibly, probably, he would fumble again, but each time he was certain he could save it.

 

“I love you,” he stuttered. His eyes were welling. “And I’m sorry.”

 

If Jackson was beautiful when he slept, he was stunning when his face broke into a smile, otherworldly when he grabbed Jinyoung and brought him into a tight, fierce hug, his arms curled around so forcefully around Jinyoung as if he was afraid he might lose him again. And this was love, Jinyoung thought, this was love, and maybe it was nothing but a childlike crush, and perhaps they might just be friends, but in that one moment when Jinyoung was sixteen and Jackson was seventeen, he thought that this was a form of love. This was real. A garden of flowers was blossoming in his heart; tulips and pansies and roses shooting from sprouts, making him warm like honey, spring bursting through his ribcage and into his heart. And Jinyoung wasn’t falling, he wasn’t crashing into the unknown – because he was with Jackson, and anything scary they would conquer together.

 

And for a moment, his whole life felt like it had purpose.

 

 

 

 

Jaebum rarely found it fortunate that he was dating his younger brother’s best friend. But one of the perks, he found, was that he knew Mark better than the back of his hand. It was eleven PM and he was driving through the streets, passing by loving couples and single-parents running back home with their kids. Mark liked to skateboard along the streets when he wanted time alone. It was why Jinyoung was always leaving house after ten – to bring Mark back.

 

He pulled up near a park overlooking the ocean. Nearby there was a skate park and a concrete pathway – one that led straight up to the best view of the water. Mark liked to skate there. The path was long and it was empty and the younger could look out at the water or up at the stars and cool down. When Mark was fourteen, he’d gotten into a fight with Jackson, and Jinyoung had made Jaebum drive him up here to get Mark. He remembered the grumble of the younger, his lips pressed into a thin line but his expression unyielding, as if he would not mention what had happened. Jaebum had just continued driving.

 

This time, it was different. Jaebum locked his car and saw Mark on the steps, skateboard leading against the concrete as he hugged his knees, looking out. Warm streetlights lit his face with hues of orange and yellow, his expression vulnerable and sad. He didn’t seem to notice Jaebum.

 

“Hey,” he said, surprising the younger. Mark looked surprised, his eyebrows pulled into a furrow as he gave the elder a curt nod, eyes moving back to the ocean.

 

That was the only greeting that Jaebum would get. In a way, he didn’t really blame the younger.

 

“You misunderstood,” Jaebum said, and Mark was bracing himself, because he knew how this would go. Jaebum would tell him that he misread the whole ‘boyfriends’ thing, that Mark was out of convenience, not out of actual love, and all that mumbo-jumbo about wanting to know what Mark was feeling and what upset him was just a passing statement, he didn’t really mean it, not like that. And then, Mark knew, his heart would ache and he knew that if he could, he would’ve grabbed his headphones and turned the volume up high so that he could just not hear the conversation that would follow.

 

“I love you,” Jaebum said sincerely. Mark thought his heart had stopped beating. “I really do.”

 

The stars were out, and Mark knew that balls of hydrogen and helium didn’t burn for him – the universe was far too big for Mark to have any significance in their scheme, they were too far and too important for a seventeen year old’s love to ignite them – but he was certain that the stars really shone for them.

 

“I just,” Jaebum bit his lip. He was nervous, Mark realised, and a part of his heart was overjoyed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. And I know that you did, by liking me and fighting with your friends, I made you really upset. And when I said that I didn’t want to fall in love with you, it wasn’t because I don’t love you. That’s far from it, really. I just don’t want to see you and Jinyoung and Jackson get hurt.”

 

Mark was silent. Totally and utterly silent, his body still as if it had lost all purpose. Then in a moment, his head found Jaebum’s shoulder, and for the first time, he felt completely calm in the elder’s presence.

 

“I love you,” Mark whispered, softly and surely, as if there was nothing else for him to say. 

 

Jaebum chuckled.

 

“I love you too.”

 

They stayed together, quiet and warm because they were with each other, the world suddenly a little brighter and little more hopeful. The ocean was calm and the stars seemed to shine and never had Jaebum felt so at peace. One moment, that was all he asked for – one moment of complete serenity, complete bliss, a single moment where he felt like there was nothing else – no future, no past, just now. There was just Mark, and there was just Jaebum, and there was really just two people falling in love.

 

“Don’t you have a project to due tomorrow?” Mark asked.

 

Jaebum groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

 

The younger laughed. “How much more do you have to do?”

 

“More than I can,” Jaebum replied.

 

“Let’s go back, then,” Mark said. “I’ll stay up with you.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I want to.”

 

Jaebum smiled, and leaned in to kiss the younger. Mark then grabbed his skateboard and they went back into Jaebum’s car, driving back home. Jaebum wasn’t sure how long it would last, how long Mark would love him for, because Mark was seventeen and he was still a child and his feelings could change sporadically, they were flimsy like paper walls, but when he was with Mark there was only the present. There was only this one moment, this one single present time where Mark loved him and Jaebum loved Mark and he thought _oh, this is what love feels like_.

 

Mark toggled with the radio, humming an absent tune as the heavy rap was replaced with something old, something familiar – something that sounded like nostalgia and hope and childlike joy, because that was the only kind of happiness which seemed to consume them entirely. Mark glanced at the elder and noticed that he was smiling fondly.

 

Mark couldn’t imagine falling in love with anyone else.

 

 

 

 

Mark was on the couch when an alarm rang. It was Jaebum’s phone, buzzing incessantly on the coffee table. Mark himself was draped over the couch, limbs stiff and heavy as he forced himself up. Jaebum was sprawled on the other couch, notes scattered along the floor with his laptop still buzzing. It was six AM and Jaebum’s first class was at eight. Mark groaned, moving to turn off the alarm.

 

“Hey,” he said, stumbling over to his boyfriend. “Hey, hyung, wake up.”

 

He was met with a reluctant mumble.

 

“Hyung,” Mark repeated, “It’s six. You have to get up and finish your project.”

 

“Ah…ah…yeah…five minutes,” Jaebum grumbled. Similar words had passed through Mark’s mouth too many times for him to accept the excuse. He shook the elder again.

 

“I’ll make you some coffee,” he said. “You have to get up, hyung.”

 

“Soon,” Jaebum murmured.

 

“ _Now_ ,” Mark pressed.

 

With reluctance, the elder boy pushed himself to sit upright.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jaebum had his laptop on his lap, aggressively typing up two more paragraphs as he searched for notes scattered around the living room. Mark leaned against him, holding two mugs of coffee and dosing off back to sleep. Jaebum looked like sleep and probably had terrible morning breath, but Mark didn’t mind. He dropped his head onto Jaebum’s shoulder and the elder laughed.

 

“Some alarm you are,” he said. Gently, he pried the cup out of Mark’s hands.

 

“Shut up,” Mark murmured. “I’ve done my part. Now it’s time for you to do yours.”

 

Jaebum snickered. Mark nudged his head into his neck.

 

“Type,” he reminded the elder sleepily.

 

Mark was just about to fall asleep when Jaebum finally closed his laptop, expression pleased if not slightly worn by the lack of sleep. The latter removed the second cup from his hands, setting it down on the coffee table along with his device. Mark smiled, eyes closed, and Jaebum leaned in to kiss him.

 

“Mm,” he hummed. “Do that again.”

 

Jaebum did.

 

His lips moved from Mark’s mouth to Mark’s neck, the younger now with his back against the couch, fingers weakly attempting to grasp Jaebum’s body. He heard the elder laugh against his neck and it made him feel giddy. Jaebum’s breath was warm and Mark was cold in his thin shirt and tight jeans. He almost felt like he was at home.

 

In Jaebum’s home. Which was Jinyoung’s home. And then Mark froze.

 

One second he was pulling at Jaebum’s hair, the next his body was limp, expression tense as he gazed up at the staircase – the one that he had walked up and down too many times that he could run through without a second thought. He remembered Jinyoung, and he remembered Jackson, and suddenly his blood was cold.

 

“Hyung,” he whispered.  Jaebum stopped, looking up at him seriously. “I did something bad.”

 

He got off the younger, watching Mark curl into a ball, body wedged between the couch as he crossed one leg, tucking his ankle under his thigh. Mark looked bashful.

 

“What happened?” Jaebum asked.

 

“I,” he stammered. “I hurt Jackson and Jinyoung on purpose.”

 

Jaebum was silent, eyes expectant. He waited for the younger to continue.

 

“I was angry, and hurt,” Mark said, “And I said something really mean to ruin their relationship because I was upset.”

 

He took in a deep breath.

 

“And now I’m scared that I’ll have ruined my friendship with them,” he said in a small voice. “Hyung, what do I do?”

 

At that moment, Jaebum caught sight of two high schoolers who definitely weren’t broken up. He smiled.

 

“You can go talk to them,” he said. Mark turned around, locking eyes with his best friends.

 

Abruptly he stood up, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Jackson and Jinyoung donned similar expressions, hands curling as if they urged to bridge the gap between the three. For a moment, all three stood stunned, unable to speak, somehow, despite being best friends since they were ten, lost for words. Mark bit his lip.

 

“Look Jackson, Jinyoung,” he said quickly, “I just want to tell you I’m…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung and Jackson seemed to say at the same time. They looked to each other, and Mark looked at them.

 

They didn’t know what to say.

 

They were all silent. And then they were all smiling, as if they understood each other all at once.

 

“There’s thirty minutes left before the bus comes,” Jackson said mischievously. “I mean, we could prepare a real breakfast, _or_ we could go for a quick round of Mario Kart.”

 

Grins seemed to light up all their faces, like dominos falling into place. Jackson looked at Jinyoung and Jinyoung looked at Mark and Mark looked at Jackson and they all looked at each other and everything seemed to be perfect.

 

“I’ll race you up,” Jackson said to no one in particular, but only Jinyoung would be petty enough to take up that challenge.

 

Mark turned around, expression tentative as he looked towards his friends longingly. Jaebum smiled.

 

“This is good,” he murmured.

 

Mark beamed back at him.

 

And unbeknownst to Mark, Jinyoung and Jackson had stopped their race and were watching them, smiling at Mark, and then at each other.

 

And everything seemed to fall into place.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg it's fiNALLY done   
> i hope this ended somewhat satisfying? even tho it feels like everything was solved in like 2 conversations lmao (there are 2 many pages i cannot solve any issues)  
> also if you squint like really really reALLY hard there are like hints of jackbum! in other chapters. but like u gotta really squint   
> i have no real ending notes about this? except man, dude, being a teenager and having all these feelings is tough. like you act irrationally and sometimes u know and sometimes u don't and sometimes you just can't control it so u just act out.   
> thank you all so, so, so, so, SO much for reading and especially for your comments and kudos! it's all very heart-warming and i'm glad/i hope u had fun (?) watching this pan out and come to its anticlimactic end AHAHAHAA i love hearing all your thoughts and stories, and it really does make me really happy you took time out to read and comment on this! you're all lovely people and i hope you have a lovely day! <3 thank you all for enduring this journey AHAHAHAA i love you all!


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